


Lying for a living.

by DeadDrabble (MisakillDatMonkey)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Actor!Sakusa, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Actors, Angst and Feels, Background Sunaosa, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Gay Panic, Happy Ending, Humor, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Production Assistant!Atsumu, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, The cinema industry isn't so open minded, There's an enormous amount of Miya twins interactions in this, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 64,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26941075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisakillDatMonkey/pseuds/DeadDrabble
Summary: Atsumu is a young but ambitious production assistant who's climbing the ladders of the cinema industry pretty fast and nothing can derail his perfect plan.Not even Sakusa Kiyoomi, the latest and brightest star, everyone's darling. The one who never smiles. The one who gets under Atsumu's skin the moment they meet and who's about to walk the same set as the unfortunate PA for months.The very star who's about to blow Atsumu's perfect trajectory up and straight to hell.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 202
Kudos: 498





	1. Prelude — One to shine bright in the dark.

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴. 𝚇 — 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚄𝙴, 𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙿𝙴𝚃 — 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃

**Present. March 2024.**

It takes a lot, a real lot, for Atsumu not to cross the railing and slide across the red carpet. It takes all his resolve, his strength and will. But he stands his grounds, tugging on his tie to ease himself if only a little. Tonight’s atmosphere is suffocating, the place — illuminated by spotlights dangerously heating up by the minute — is swarming with photographers and journalists, and his tuxedo is _fitting._ Really… All of that would have been enough to make the young man feel like he’s going to melt, but that’s not it.

It takes everything and more for Atsumu not to vault over all that stupid decorum and throw himself on the other side of the stupid railing because his biggest weakness, what’s truly breathtaking, just appeared from behind the corner of tonight’s sponsors standees. 

Atsumu’s biggest weakness has the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen, although he’s not showing it off right now.

Sakusa rarely gifts any red carpet he’s walking with a smile. He rarely gifts anyone with it, actually. Atsumu would know ; it took ages for him, a hundred years, the whole eternity and walking through hell and back, to be bestowed and touched with such a reward.

The flashes go off around him, crackling as people cheer and the crowd gets stupidly louder. He doesn’t hate it, but hates to know someone else does.

Sakusa rarely ever smiles during that exercise simply because he loathes it. Because it makes him feel awful, something it took Atsumu ages to understand, a thousand more years.

Journalists howl and roar about mundanities and Atsumu’s hand clenches in the fabric of his tie. The silk gets wrinkled and he knows _someone_ is going to notice in just a few moments, and roll his eyes softly. But it’ll distract him. It’ll distract Kiyoomi who’s living his own personal little nightmare right now, just as Atsumu is the one currently distracted.

He forgets to breathe long enough to get dizzy under the hot projectors but how could he remember to do such a trivial thing when the most gorgeous man on this planet is right there, offering the same cold and beautiful face he did countless times to Atsumu over the last eternity, the last million years… The same face that, back then, Atsumu would have gladly punched fair and square.

It takes a lot for him not to run over, dip Sakusa back and steal a breathtaking kiss from the other man, as if the world wasn’t watching, but it doesn’t take as much effort as it did to get there today.

It doesn’t take half the work it took for them both to stop being absolute idiots.

“Please! Right here! A word on the _scene_! Did you actually —” 

Atsumu doesn’t listen to the journalist practically yelling into his ear, because it got the actor’s attention on the other side of the railing and suddenly, Atsumu isn’t melting under the spotlights, he’s _scorching_ under a dark, enticing gaze he’s seen shine genuinely when hidden in the stolen moments they got away from all that circus.

They don’t linger. Sakusa’s eyes shift to another face pretty fast as if he hadn’t noticed him, posing differently for more pictures, but Atsumu knows and sees. He sees Sakusa's lips twitch at the corner and can’t help his own from curling more and more until his whole face is painted with a bright grin.

Yeah… It did take them a billion years and maybe the production assistant can’t parade on the other side of the barrier but it doesn’t matter anymore. He finally gets it, what’s behind it all, behind the railing, behind the uncomfortable feelings, behind the mask of steel. And he’s the one who got to break it all down.

In what feels like another life, but was barely a few months ago, he’d have been frozen in place, jaw clenched and blood pressure sky-rocketting as he tried to figure out a way to deal with very complicated feelings, but not anymore. 

Tonight Atsumu steps back, the gigantic grin morphing into a serene, slightly smug smile, and he walks back and away from the commotion, hands tucked in the pockets of his slacks because he knows.

Sakusa will smile back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright :) Don't let it fool you. We're going on an enemies to lovers trope journey and it goes down in the very next chapter eheh  
> Also a little warning: although the general atmosphere will have a lot of comedic moments, there's going to be feels and some angst because I want to address a very complicated subject that is the running homophobia in this industry. That will not happen between Sakusa and Atsumu, though!  
> I hope you enjoy your reading.
> 
> Here's the [art cover](https://twitter.com/deaddrabble/status/1345353423475142657) for this fanfic, created by the wonderful [El](https://twitter.com/adooboo1)


	2. It never goes according to the script, does it?

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴. 𝟷 — 𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝙳𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙼 — 𝙳𝙰𝚈

**November 2022.**

“Swear to god, one more word and I leak the last page of the script on instragram, see if they trust their precious assistant producer again, shithead.”

“Shut the hell up, ‘Samu! You do that you’re fucking dead to me! Shouldn’t even have your filthy hands on that,” Atsumu yells over the phone as heatedly as he would if Osamu was at arm-length and he had the chance to throttle him.

“That’s on you, though. Didn’t hafta leave it without surveillance,” Osamu answers as quietly as if he was at arm-length and not impressed by the ridiculous idea of Atsumu throttling him. 

“It was on my fucking table at my fucking place, you’re just a nosy piece of shit!”

“I learned to survive. Can’t blame me for being the smart one,” Osamu goes on again, and Atsumu can hear the annoying _grin_ in his voice.

“Gathering blackmail material on your precious big brother that might get him fired and end his career ain’t _surviving_!” he goes on, outraged.

“You’re right. It’s pure genius, actually,” Osamu flatters himself very flatly. “So, anyway, gotta go back. Call me when we have to arrange catering, alright? ‘Till then, try not to blow it with not _exactly hiring the main talent, but still doing the dirty job_ so your boss can actually do the cool part and get the credit for it.”

Atsumu sucks in a sharp breath that makes him snort and choke, which renders the next dark sentence pretty ridiculous: “I hate you so, so much!”

“You called to gloat! It’s simple vibe-check so you don’t become one of those pretentious shitty producers later. See it as a favor, you’re already plenty full of yourself, ‘Tsumu.”

And with that, he hangs up on his darling twin brother, which brings the count to twelve times for him and only eight for Atsumu this November and Atsumu hates not having the last word.

He still, with all the bad faith in the world, sends an aggressive “ _on your way to win yourself the asshole trophy at the end of the month, I see._ ” text and pockets his phone, scrunching his face into a very _mature_ pout.

There’s no one to glare at but his own reflection if he cranes his neck and looks into the mirror of the dressing room in which he isolated himself to bring Osamu the big news.

Which isn’t that big. And isn’t so much of a news either, since it’s not actually that far from what he signed up for when they hired him as a production assistant. Actually, it’s a little underwhelming, but it doesn’t deter him in the least.

When he got his first real job and got out of Meian’s office, two years ago, he was overjoyed. Getting to be a PA on a long feature after only a few years running around TV shows sets and having started with zero connection felt really gratifying. Meian seemed willing to trust him and actually trained Atsumu thoroughly, both in administrative works and as the perfect swiss knife on set. Still… 

Getting on a second long feature, just now, after doing objectively a really good job on the previous one… maybe Atsumu did get carried away a little. Maybe it was preposterous to imagine himself walking in the production house for that new film as if he was part of the walls and was going to be given all kinds of high responsibilities straight away. Maybe it didn’t hurt to hear Osamu tell him to chill down a notch.

It was more upsetting than actually hearing Meian tell him he would get to organize the meetings for the casting’s short-list without having a say in the final decision. Like, he's supposed to hold the camera, and bring in coffee. And sit there and watch. 

“It’s additional experience, you’ll learn a lot from it,” Meian had said with a wink, but that’s basically what he had said every time he'd put Atsumu in charge of something new and a little less exciting than what the PA had expected.

But again, it’s his second long feature, and it’s already more than the first one where he literally did nothing but drive around for food and catering and printing day-to-day scripts by the dozen — probably destroying half of the Amazonian forest all by himself in the process.

There’s improvement, which Atsumu worked hard for, no matter how you look at it. And the fact that, this time, he _is_ in charge of catering, and not running errands for it, means that not only does Atsumu get to plug in his brother’s business, but he gets to boss him around.

Atsumu’s smirk is back on his lips as he stretches his arms out, rolling his shoulders and neck until they produce a series of satisfying creaks. 

When he’s done, he shrugs the vest of his suit off and fishes in the rear pocket of his slacks, unfolding the paper he reduced to a tiny square to fit in and laying it out in front of the make-up mirror. There’s a list on it. Names and phone numbers he scribbled down during the reunion. 

His laptop is already sitting there, ready since before he called his brother, and the PDF file flashes to life as the PA turns it back on.

A portrait photo of a man with straight black bangs appears. The blue of his eyes is as sharp as it’s deep and the expression on his face is kind of gloomy, as if he was just riled up enough to pout for the camera genuinely. But that’s what they’re after for the lead after all, so Atsumu’s gaze goes over his face, scanning it thoroughly before shifting to the list. He’s pretty sure that’s not it, the dude must be his age, or around it, and Atsumu can tell he’s a newbie and not as intense as he wants to look like.

The PA has a good eye for it, no matter how little training he got. It’s an inner talent Meian scouted in him back when he recruited him — and which made Atsumu think he’d get to participate more actively in the casting decisions. There’s no need to dwell on that again, though, so he goes back to work.

Atsumu spits back the pen cap he just bit off right on top of the table and underlines Kageyama Tobio’s agent’s contact informations, adding a simple note next to it that says “ _goody two shoes with a cute pout_ ” while he sticks his tongue between his teeth in concentration.

He’ll call this one for sure. But Atsumu knows he can find better. Someone more fitting of the role so he goes back to the PDF file and scrolls down. He finds a few more shots that seem interesting, and underlines the corresponding contact infos each time. There’s a Chikara Ennoshita and a promising Issei Matsukawa who end up on the short list and Atsumu thinks the latter might really be interesting. He saw him work before, as a guest in an series he was working on, he could fit the first role pretty—

“Holy f—” Atsumu almost swears, before stopping in his tracks and just hanging there, jaw slack, as he looks at the next picture on display.

He recognizes the man on the screen immediately because he saw him this very morning on a giant new billboard in the middle of Tokyo while running late for work. And Atsumu recalls perfectly what he thought back then and it was the despair of not working for commercials instead of movies if you get to work with hot models like _him._

In reality, Atsumu would rather change careers than end up shooting ads, because there’s nothing artistic or interesting in that to him, contrary to movies _but_ — and Atsumu’s eyes shift to the list again with a renewed attention — _Kiyoomi Sakusa_ apparently blesses you with his presence when it's the case.

It must be a sign, the assistant decides, as he sets his golden gaze back on the most gorgeous face he’s ever seen. 

“Sorry Matsukawa-san, you _almost_ got the gig,” Atsumu breathes out, fishing his phone out and dialing Sakusa’s agent’s number with a dreamy grin.

The production assistant’s new objective is plain obvious and the _short_ -list couldn’t be more of an understatement.

* * *

They still end up seeing each of the other men two days later and Atsumu feels cranky by the time Kageyama leaves the room with his script tucked under his arm and a nonplussed expression on his face.

It’s anormally hot in the room, and the performances aren’t good. Or they _are,_ but just not fitting the role. The lead of the thriller they’re about to shoot is supposed to be all enigmatic and mysterious and have a special kind of cold restraint and neither of the three guys Meian insisted for them to see have that all at once. Matsukawa did get close but he had a nonchalant twist to his interpretation of the character that just made Atsumu think he was right all along.

Not that he said so _aloud._ He got rid of the frustration beforehand, calling Osamu the night before to tell him he was _right_ and _sure_ Sakusa would get the role and shouldn’t even have to go through the casting phase at all, that he had a nose for these things and he’d get to have him play the lead. To which Osamu painfully answered that more than a nose for it, Atsumu obviously had a nasty boner and that if he started his career on dick feelings instead of guts feelings, it could only go awry. Atsumu got to hang up first this time, at least.

It makes him fidgety and feeling extra hot as he rocks back and forth on his heels behind the camera tripod.

“Atsumu, are you alright?” the casting director, a beautiful middle-aged american woman named Rachel, asks with concern and a thick accent. “Need a bathroom break?”

Atsumu wants to die on the spot, immediately freezing and adjusting the collar of his shirt.

“Nah, ‘m good! Just a little hot in there,” he says, trying to muster a cocky grin, as if he hasn’t already discarded both his vest and tie and is left with his shirt and sleeves rolled up above the elbow.

It took the cinema industry for Atsumu to process the fact that he was bisexual and really into men as well, but it’s also the place he gets to meet gorgeous women all the time, and he never particularly liked making a fool of himself in front of one.

Rachel turns toward Charlotte, her poor assistant who flew from New-York this morning and wears the jet lag aftermath all over her face. She winks at her knowingly. Atsumu can tell Charlotte is trying to blink back, but with the amount of coffee that’s running through her system right now and the lack of sleep, it seems a little more like her face just glitched than she’s trying to bond with her demanding boss. She’s done that a few minutes ago, actually, accepting overly sweet pastries she clearly didn’t want and that her boss clearly didn’t need anymore, as breakfast and it’s clear wherever they are now, the travel down isn’t merciful to her. Rachel is blind to it, or wants to be, and just goes on, in English: “Well, too bad for him, it’s about to get a lot hotter in there, amma right?”

She turns to Atsumu again, switching back to Japanese, as if he was not able to understand both, and asks more seriously “Next name on the list is Kiyoomi Sakusa. He's getting popular, heard of him?” She knows Atsumu organized the meetings, but it’s standard assholery procedure to pretend that _as an assistant_ he doesn’t know shit, and as the _boss_ she knows it all. Atsumu still grins back pleasantly, nodding slightly when in reality he wants to shake his head like a crazed man.

Truth is his veins are thrumming with excitation at the mention of the name, but he’s not showing any of it.

“Will you let him in?” Rachel asks again.

For the first time of the day, Atsumu doesn’t mind playing fetch and actually goes willingly — even a little too eagerly — to the door and swings it open a tad too cheerfully.

He’s excited, Atsumu can’t help it! Not only the guy is gorgeous, but the production assistant has a feeling: he’s perfect for the role, and if Meian gets that he’s the one who scouted him? It’s going to smell very good for him! 

So Atsumu goes all out, a huge grin plastered on his face as the door slides wide open, and stepping out of the room fully instead of lazily peeking out like he did for the last three actors in order to greet the next in line.

Ironic how Atsumu’s life never goes according to the script, as Osamu likes to remind him often. 

Sakusa isn’t there, sitting on a chair and waiting for him demurely. Their eyes don’t meet shyly over the script the actor is supposed to hold in front of his face, nor is it love at first sight when they discover each other for the very first time.

Atsumu’s cheerful “Welcome to MSBY Production—” just fades in an incoherent mumble as he realizes the only two other men in the corridor are standing feet apart and arguing.

The one he’s interested in clearly is one of them, and he’s currently turning his back to the production assistant, hunched over himself and hissing at the man accompagnying him with an obvious derogatory attitude.

Suddenly Atsumu’s vision of the perfect model walking out of a perfume commercial vanishes and the only picture his mind can conjure up is one of a grumpy, hostile cat.

His entrance does bring attention on him, though, so the argument stops almost immediately after and Sakusa finally turns on his heel. Atsumu can’t remember the last time someone sent him a glare _that_ murderous. And he has a habit of stealing Osamu’s food that is quite persistent.

“Uh! Don’t tell me I have to get a nasty bleach job for the role or I’m out,” the actor drops with disdain, and that’s the first time Atsumu realizes it.

Because even while wearing a surgical mask, you can convey with a single glance, a single frown, how much you dislike something or someone when you’re _that_ good.

Yes, the moment Sakusa walks past him briskly to storm into the room, almost shoving Atsumu and his poor “bleach job” out of the way is the moment the production assistant gets it. It takes ignoring the white noise in his ears and the way his heart races rabbit fast inside his ribcage, but when he comes to his senses and sees Sakusa’s agent offering an apologetic shrug, Atsumu _knows it._ He doesn't have to be dramatic, it's those slightest, littlest shifts in your life that won't necessarily make a big entrance but will left a permanent, obvious mark.

He didn’t just scout the most promising talent of his career… Atsumu didn’t just find the perfect gem for the lead role, no.

He's pretty sure he just fucked over his entire life.

* * *

It turns out that Sakusa learning he doesn’t have to dye his hair for the role isn't helping them brighten up the mood. Even though they insist three times, to the point of being so extremely rude Atsumu is foaming at the mouth, that no, no one would ever touch his hair to turn them blond. On the contrary, Rachel couldn’t stress enough how glossy and perfect his dark locks are, trying to drag Charlotte down with her — all the while being totally oblivious to the fact that Charlotte is now basically sleeping with her eyes open.

Atsumu really isn’t interested in the drama that is unfolding in front of him. Honestly if Charlotte suddenly faceplants on the table in front of them, impaling her forehead on a pen and putting an end to her own misery, she’ll actually end everyone’s suffering.

Sakusa looks like he’d rather be anywhere than sitting on the chair in front of the camera that’s focused on him and Atsumu… Well, Atsumu doesn’t really know what’s going on.

The billboard model in a burgundy suit who had a sensual aura floating around him is nothing like the young man sitting arms crossed over his black turtleneck shirt. This one reluctantly got rid of his mask and does a poor job of hiding the fact that he’s offended by the sheer idea of inhaling the air surrounding him.

 _Well, suit yourself, bastard, guess turning blue will look better than the bleach job on you,_ Atsumu thinks to himself as he looks intently over the device between them.

He can’t believe how rude the actor was, but… let’s say he was in a nasty argument with his agent upon arriving at the production house, it’s alright to be mad. It happens.

The fact that he’s mad enough to insult Atsumu on sight, without even introducing himself? Well, less alright, but let’s say the poor guy really was distraught.

But he attacked his hair, which Atsumu takes great pride in, and—okay! Just distraught!

But now, he’s been sitting there for five minutes, his agent nowhere near them, and he’s been nothing but a cold asshole. So much so than Atsumu had to wonder twice if maybe all that is part of the act, part of the _method acting_ and Sakusa is actually a sweetheart but to get the role he has to go search into the depths of his character as an introspect—

“Bullshit,” Atsumu breathes out so smoothly it only sounds like a low hiss, but it does get the actor’s attention and now they’re locking eyes and the production assistant can’t breathe out because he can’t breathe at all.

The intensity of his black gaze is just crushing.

“So, can we go over the lines from _scene B?_ Charlotte, honey, you’ll play Akiko’s part—” Rachel says — and Atsumu realizes she’s been talking and rambling all this time — just when Charlotte decides now is the time to act up.

She’s been holding up until now, but the moment Rachel needs her — damn, the moment _Atsumu_ needs her — here she goes, pushing her chair back and pressing a hand to her mouth in a telltale hurry. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I’ll be back in a sec!” 

They all startle and look at her escape the room in a rush, and Atsumu winces at the thought that she probably has no idea where the nearest bathrooms are. He has other things to wince about, though, as he soon finds out. The first one being how displeased Rachel looks after the new turn of events and the second one being the words that leave her mouth after an intense reflection leading to an outcome she seems to find distasteful but inevitable.

“Atsumu, bring Charlotte’s chair in front of Sakusa-san. It's not the perfect option but we can at least do a reading. You’ll play Akiko’s part.”

It happens insanely fast from then on. The way Atsumu obviously wants to scream _no_ as he stares into the dark pits that are the actor's eyes and the way Sakusa sends him the least flattering look possible.

The way Rachel smiles like a dangerous psychopath and beckons Atsumu over: "C'mon, the script and the chair, dear."

The way _scene B_ flashes before Atsumu's eyelids when he shuts his eyes tight because he printed these pages this very morning and he remembers the lines pretty well.

"Looks like you're about to lose your second assistant," Sakusa comments flatly from behind Atsumu.

All in all, only a few really short seconds go by between the moment he's about to blurt out _no_ and the one his hand slams on the script in front of Rachel. And it's even faster that Atsumu spins around with the most smug smirk to have ever adorned his lips.

There are a few reasons why Atsumu preferes to be _behind_ the camera instead of standing _in front_ of it, and lacking the talent of acting surprisingly isn't one. Actually, it's always come easily to him, and even now. Playing is easier than standing there and getting eaten alive by this man and his crushing aura. 

The production assistant doesn't need a chair, instead he walks over to Sakusa and stops when their knees are mere centimeters apart, just then bending forward so he's grinning right into Sakusa's gorgeous but distrustful face.

Sakusa flinches and glares on. Atsumu feels dizzy, pushes back the feeling.

"Hey, _hot stuff,"_ he slurs, his voice dropping into a purr.

His partner's eyes narrow into slits as he looks for a sign Atsumu is fooling around. But he _too_ knows _scene B_. So he lets Atsumu's finger run under his chin but Atsumu doesn't make the mistake to misinterpret the storm in those beautiful dark eyes.

Sakusa doesn't smile as the production assistant goes and smirks wider and he doesn't either when Atsumu drops the next line, holding the actor's chin high so they have no choice but to breathe in the same heavy air.

"Never thought you'd show your face to me again after that silly little stunt of yours. Shameless, aren't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Thank you for the warm welcome ♥ I hope you'll enjoy the rest of this story! I can't wait to write them in all kind of awful situations and unfold their story!
> 
> Also I wanted to say, I don't have a beta-reader and English isn't my native language so I take extra-extra time proof reading myself but I don't feel confident enough going full on with the Kansai dialect for the twins. I'd rather not have it look caricatural and I had a slight breakdown over it so I dropped the idea. Hope you understand!
> 
> See you!


	3. Two can play at this game.

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴.𝟸 — 𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝙰𝚄𝙳𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙼 — 𝙳𝙰𝚈

_Cont’d._

Atsumu can’t believe what he’s doing. No one can even say he’s being unprofessional. From an outsider’s point of view, it would actually be the contrary. He’s playing the part despite it not being his job and the role being a woman’s one just to accomodate an actor. 

Only problem is that he’s doing it out of spite. Or is he… he wonders, as Sakusa’s expression morphs easily into a seductive and dark one. 

Sakusa isn’t just gorgeous, he might be one of the most talented actors of his generation, if you believe the press. Atsumu doesn’t read it much because tabloids are full of bullshit, but he’s done a little background research and heard enough people freaking out over the last two days when he said they had _the_ Sakusa Kiyoomi coming in for an audition.

Him being attractive is something, but Atsumu came here today fascinated for a whole other reason. He loves his job, he loves being part of that insane, giant creative processus that gives birth to a film. That’s why he works with Meian, in an independent production house. It might be littler than a few others but they always produce outstanding pieces. 

And the actors and actresses they cast for that are part of what gives to each film they produce the magical twist it has. Atsumu would never want to be an actor, but he’s so fascinated by their craftwork, he wants to understand it, to help enhance it…

It’s beyond thrilling to him, and that’s why coming here today, he was so high on expectations… Seeing a pool of actors playing the same part, seeing Sakusa’s performance, understand the way he moves and goes with the role.

But that man, that incredible, talented and beautiful man, had to be the biggest jerk of the century. A title Atsumu has always been contesting for, whether he wants it or not, as Osamu likes to remind him.

Atsumu doesn’t want to be an asshole, but sometimes, some people… they make you go for it. The very person standing in front of him, whose chin rests on the tip of his finger... he's clearly one of them. Atsumu is going to give his all, just to make a point. Sakusa Kiyoomi won’t ruin the perfect image the PA shaped in his mind for him, it’s out of the question.

Atsumu is going to give his best performance since he played Romeo in tenth grade and the almighty actor can suck it up.

He doesn’t care if they’re in a white room brightly lit, with clean but scattered furniture around, that feels too empty and nothing intimate, instead of the dark, filthy and crowded room the scene takes place in. He doesn’t have to set up the mood because he’s pretty good at drawing the attention to him no matter what, and his partner will have to fall for it too.

Atsumu just has to not fall the other way around, but Sakusa can’t be that good, can—

“Who stood the other up, again? Who literally fucked off with a bag full of money stained with my blood still fresh on it? You left me high and dry. I think you got what you deserved, _sweetheart_.”

Each word flows so smoothly out of his mouth, the rhythm ô so perfect until this very last word that drips obscenely from his lips and that sends chills down Atsumu’s shoulders and spine. 

The score is already even. Effortlessly. It's not like Atsumu could exactly compete on the acting part but he was hoping that his partner wouldn't get too in character, not so soon.

Sakusa is looking up at the production assistant through long, black eyelashes, perfectly still on the chair he’s supposed to be tied to. 

Sakusa tied to a chair, oh god. Atsumu pulls back, leaning away from him and breaking the contact altogether, his finger prickling where it touched the actor’s face. Rachel is still in the room. A room set up for an audition! Dammit, Atsumu needs to cool his head down.

He can’t do this, can he?

But then, he notices there’s something else in that black gaze… a spark. A challenging spark. That jerk is challenging him to go on. 

“I didn’t have a choice and you know that. You knew it before we even went in there. You knew it would end this way. You should have been grateful I left or else it would have been more than a few stains,” Atsumu goes on with the little rant, putting all his heart into it.

He’s always thought Akiko was way less of a bitch than she appears to be after a first reading. He likes her character, she’s not vain, just very cunning. And she cares for her partner. She has depth. 

Not as much depth as the part Sakusa plays, but she does.

“I got shot!” Sakusa suddenly retorts, scathing.

Atsumu startles, not expecting the other man to raise his voice. 

Now he’s not sure he can do this, but he _wants_ to, just to see the actor go all out. 

“Yeah, you did,” Atsumu agrees, stepping forward again, towering the other man without hesitation despite the pace of his heartbeat increasing. 

Sakusa observes him get closer, and closer, and there it _still_ is, behind the fake and oh so credible anger: the defiance.

Atsumu doesn’t know what possesses him, he just drops in the actor’s lap, straddling his thighs before his brain catches up on his mischief. 

It will catch up on it, on how stupid Atsumu was for being once again the instigator of his own demise. But then there’s the surprise painted on Sakusa’s features, the slight widening of his eyes that the camera won’t be able to catch, hidden by Atsumu who leans into him, and it spurs him on just enough. His arms move on their own accord, reaching up and circling around the other man’s neck.

Sakusa’s breath catches imperceptibly. Atsumu thinks he's got him.

“You did and you shot me back,” he purrs in his partner’s ear.

Now, he’s so sure he won whatever little game they’re playing that Atsumu forgets it’s a play. It’s a screenplay. There are directions, actions detailed for the characters to follow…

One, in this particular scene, is that Sakusa’s character is supposed to get rid of the restraints he’s bound with. And not only that but…

Two hands suddenly wrap around the PA’s waist, just above his hips, thumbs digging where Atsumu’s abs suddenly tense like crazy both in surprise and by reflex. He’s grateful for the weekly visit he pays to the gym and the great core-muscles strength he built over years, because the next second, he’s not straddling anyone’s thighs anymore, he’s jolted up and swirled around like a mere puppet. His legs wrap weakly around Sakusa's waist on their own accord, instinctely trying to find some balance. At least it happens too fast for him to really think about how suggestive the position is, because he doesn't trust his body one second. 

Sakusa is a little taller than him, but he’s lean, and apparently deceptively strong. Atsumu gets his ass sitted in the chair in a fleeting second, where Sakusa was standing just before. The production assistant gets desperately dizzy, afraid for a faint moment that he might pass out. What the hell just happened! 

He doesn’t have time for that, though.

Next action in the script has Sakusa’s character boxing Atsumu’s in the chair, hands flat on the armrests. 

Atsumu’s treacherous brain supplies easily the obvious: the lame chair they’re using for the scene doesn’t provide any _armrests_. 

Sakusa’s hands land flat on top of Atsumu’s thighs instead and it’s a relief the production assistant has figured out he was into men prior to this day, or otherwise, the awakening would have been disastrous.

He’s turned on. So turned on he knows that even if the camera Sakusa is now hiding him from won’t pick it up, he has no choice but to blush like a virgin maiden under the actor’s merciless gaze. He can't hide that. 

He’s done for. Not only did Atsumu not win this round, he’s also now openly screaming internally in front of that man’s face for obvious reasons he’ll have the hardest time to brush of with silly excuses like “ _I got surprised, I suffer vertigo, I blushed from the stunt, not because you’re a hot, breath-takingly beautiful sexy man despite being a real bastard_.”

He’s not even thinking about the camera, or about Rachel who’s probably ready to pull out some popcorn and will have no qualms judging him hard the instant Sakusa is out of the room — granted she’s kind enough to wait until then, something Atsumu doubts greatly.

He wants to die. The scene isn’t over. He has to squeal one last line out before Sakusa can, as per say in the script, circle his chair and deliver an entire monologue. Which he forces out in a miserably too-high pitched voice: “Okay, you’re upset, I can see that, but just give me a chance to—”

Atsumu doesn’t get the chance he's hoping for, the ground doesn’t open under them to swallow him, and Sakusa doesn’t go easy on him at all.

He feels like a prey, cornered by a beautiful but lethal predator who secretly enjoys playing with his food but his expression remains as dark as before. Atsumu just can _feel_ how much he enjoys it from the light touch on his shoulders. His fingers run along his left arm, a feather touch that is scorching. Atsumu can't be _that_ affected, can he? 

Just as he's persuading himself that it's fine, that the fingertips brushing his nape aren't that fatal… 

Sakusa bends over and his mouth is close enough to Atsumu's ear that if he made the mistake to lean back just a little, he'd be pressed right against his lips. Thank god, he’s so tense, Atsumu is nowhere near relaxing and putting himself in greater danger.

He can almost feel Sakusa’s lips move along his skin, and the production assistant has to ground himself violently to not give anything away in front of the camera. His pride is at stake too, because he doesn't want to give the satisfaction of looking affected to the vile actor _but_ the fact that Meian is going to watch that video makes it a thousand times worse. 

The openly suggestive position and situation would honestly have been enough to be the ordeal of his short life, but Atsumu visibly pissed a few gods off this very morning because when Sakusa starts delivering his lines…

Atsumu can’t save face any longer. At least the actor can’t see him, but with each word slipping past his lips, the PA’s eyes widen a little more, his jaw going slack until his mouth starts hanging open in wonder. He's too open, Osamu always told him he was too easy to read, with how obvious he is but Atsumu never mastered the poker-face art like his twin did.

Atsumu isn’t sure he’s ever heard a voice sexier than the one that is currently pouring venom laced with grief in his ear. He knows the character’s background, how he’s mourning his love for a woman who betrayed him in this scene, a key moment for him… He knows he’s still attached, and he knows how spiteful he’s supposed to be.

And Sakusa embraces it all so perfectly it’s chilling. Atsumu isn’t the one who betrayed him, yet for a passing instant, he feels guilty ; he’s not the one who hurt him but he wants to look back into these dark eyes he knows are full of sorrow and comfort him.

His imagination couldn’t come up with a portrayal as accurate when he was reading the script in his room in the middle of the night.

It’s beyond any expectation Atsumu had both to find an actor suitable for the role and to meet someone that talented so early in his career.

His resentment seeps out, leaving room for a resurgence of excitation. And they’re just in a dull casting room, without any setting or—

“My, my! I rarely let your lot get carried away during an audition but that was _something_!” 

Rachel’s voice sounds far more insufferable than it already is when it comes slapping Atsumu across the face. She’s not sitting at her chair anymore but standing next to the camera, which she probably just stopped from recording.

He registers the mention of “your lot” and winces with some delay. Sometimes she tends to speak like actors are a special breed, but Atsumu knows she might as well be referring to cattle. She’s not the first casting director to do it, it’s still as unpleasant.

All in all, he was going through hell with Sakusa’s performance, but getting dragged back to the crude reality of the audition room with her might be worse. There’s nothing to marvel at with someone who’s convinced she’s subtle at believing she’s better than everyone else in the room.

“Thank you,” Sakusa says from behind Atsumu, and his voice is nothing like the sultry lethal weapon it was seconds ago.

Actually, it gets cold and dismissive again. Faintly mocking, but enough to make Atsumu jump out of the chair in indignation when he adds: “I could have done better with someone who can play, but I had to do with what you gave me, I guess.”

“Excuse me, what the—” the production assistant starts, absolutely floored.

That is _so_ rude! And it’s not even the fact that he takes it personally that sends him reeling. He’s sure Sakusa says that partly just to spite him and his performance wasn’t _that_ terrible.

No, he's losing it because Atsumu has never seen any actor in his short career being openly _that_ impolite or unpleasant in an audition room. The very place they’re supposed to make themselves so likeable and indispensable they’ll land a massive contract, a great gig and a lot of money. The very place everyone gets to be even more of a fake ass than anywhere near a rolling camera.

What the fuck is he _doing!_ Atsumu wants to scream.

It’s not like the movie sucks, it’s a fantastic script, a promising director… anyone in their right mind would beg to be a part of it! He’s gasping in disbelief, staring straight at Sakusa’s whose eyes are fixated on Rachel with a thin, despicable smile that is anything but real.

“I know! He chose the right side of the camera for himself when he got _behind_ , right?”

 _She_ hammers the nail in the coffin, literally trashing Atsumu as if he wasn’t standing a few feet away from her and already wounded. Kick a man on the ground, right? She's definitely awful, and Atsumu starts to envy Charlotte's terrible predicament.

There’s a flash of what Atsumu must be mistaking for disgust on Sakusa’s face at her words, probably addressed to him if it was ever there anyway, but then his expression moves to annoyance.

Atsumu’s blood boils a little, but he forces himself to breathe in slowly. He tries to remember this very morning, when he woke up beyond thrilled and came to work so optimistic.

“Anyway, I’m still very pleased with your performance and so will be Kita-san, I’m sure.”

Sakusa doesn’t answer, doesn’t even acknowledge the name when every other actor who auditioned for the part at least showed excitement when it wasn’t right out deep deference for the director.

It’s an honor to be directed by him, work for him… Atsumu is _baffled_. 

“I’m sorry I wasted your time today, do you need anything else?” Sakusa speaks up again, his words making Atsumu frown because he can’t even pretend not to be entirely puzzled now.

Wasted her time? When! Apart from when he acted and still is acting like an asshole, he quite literally just delivered the best performance they’ve seen in this room today. Probably will the whole next week as they audition any part of the film.

And he’s acting as if he doesn’t want to be there, as if he’s above it, as if it wasn’t worthy of his precious time!

“Not at all! It was riveting! We’re done here, though. I got everything I needed, you’re free to go. Atsumu, escort him back, will you? We’ll be in touch if needed, Sakusa-san.”

She hasn’t asked Atsumu or Charlotte to escort anyone back until now. She barely dismissed the others. A casting session could make any Fordism advocate blush, and the PA is used to the crazy rhythm and how short is the time the artists get to demonstrate they're cut for the job, so that is new…

Rachel telling him to take extra time to take care of him? Sakusa is the biggest idiot in the universe if he doesn’t realize his audition tape might as well already be on Kita’s desk with a ribbon on top of it.

And he knows there’s no other actor lined up directly after him, that they have a short break, but still no reason for Rachel to go out of her way.

“Please, do get in contact with my _manager_ ,” the actor corrects her, impolitely, as he picks his mask back from the jacket he didn’t bother discarding when he entered the room.

“What a temper! Should have recorded that too for the role! Have a fantastic day, Sakusa-san,” Rachel answers, not deterred one second. 

Her smile is as fake as the rest of her, Atsumu thinks with spite but he forces a neutral smile back on his face and follows Sakusa who’s already heading for the door.

“Oh and Atsumu! Grab Charlotte and a cup of coffee on your way back, honey,” he can hear her voice follow him as he rushes to get the door first.

Sakusa takes an extra step to the side to avoid brushing him when Atsumu’s hand lands on the handle and the production assistant casts him an incensed glare. The actor quirks an eyebrow at him in return before averting his gaze for good.

The door shuts behind them a little loudly after they step out, drawing the attention of the man who was arguing with Sakusa when Atsumu found them. He’s standing further down the corridor, next to the vending machine Atsumu will definitely _not_ get a coffee from for Rachel, least she drops the filled cup in Meian's trashcan like she did yesterday during the very meeting they all got introduced to each other for the first time.

Atsumu appreciates Charlotte, he doesn’t want to see her clean her boss’ mess. And he doesn’t want to do it himself, which is more likely since the young lady has yet to reappear.

“Thank you,” Sakusa’s voice suddenly reaches him from behind his mask, muffled and low.

Atsumu startles, eyes leaving momentarily the man who's leaving the vendine machine to walk up to them. He turns to steal a glance at the actor, confused. Sakusa is already looking away. 

“I mean go play fetch for your boss, why don't you,” Sakusa starts again, louder this time.

“So, how did it go?” the third man asks, dropping by them the moment Atsumu clenches his fists. “Hi, Higuchi Reisi. I’m Sakusa-kun’s agent.”

“Manager,” Sakusa corrects, while Higuchi offers a hand to Atsumu. 

The actor isn’t talking to him, he’s talking to his manager.

Atsumu’s confusion increases. He had a sense that man might be either of those, or else it would make little sense for him to come along with Sakusa for an audition, yet with the open animosity Sakusa shows around Higuchi, something feels off.

The man offering a hand, that the PA eventually shakes with a slight smile, is a little older than them both, by a few years, dressed in a nice suit that’s neither cheap nor too pretentious. Nice face, warm expression, he brushes Sakusa’s little fit with a wink.

“Well, soon to be agent, anyway. You’re in such a mood today, sorry about that,” he politely shifts back to Atsumu after going along with the actor’s whim.

And damn, the production assistant pities the man who seems so used to coping with Sakusa’s tantrums he casually goes and apologizes on his behalf as if it was nothing.

“Not at all, Higuchi-san. Miya Atsumu, production assistant. I represent Meian’s office,” Atsumu greets him back. “It’s an outstandin’ performance he delivered back there. We were _thrilled_ to have him, really,” Atsumu puts some emphasis on the words, showing Sakusa he can be good too at pretending he’s not standing in the room with them.

It’s petty, and it doesn’t get better, but fuck this guy, really. 

Higuchi seems delighted to hear that.

“See? Told you you’d do great. I apologize for earlier, of course. Today is a peculiar day for us, at the agency and everyone is a little tense, but we’re very grateful you took the time to have us.”

“Pleasure was ours. Meian-san will be in touch,” Atsumu warms up to him for real, now.

Compared to his mentee, the man’s personality seems on the opposite end of the jerk-to-very-nice-guy-you-want-to-be-friends-with spectrum and Atsumu gathers Sakusa gets out of a few tricky situations just thanks to him. 

Well, he might have sniffed the raw, incredible talent and decided to put up with his atrocious personality for the beauty of the Art, maybe.

Atsumu knows he might be willing to do the same. In order for a movie to be spectacular, and as long as the person doesn’t inconvenience others badly, the young production assistant is ready to take a few bullets like that. As long as Sakusa is only rude to him and people who deserve it equally like Rachel, in fact…

“I promise he’s charming. A little quiet, but really a good lad,” Higuchi tells him, his hand landing on Sakusa’s shoulder who stiffens ostensibly. “We’ll be waiting then. Have a lovely day, Miya-san.”

Not Miya-kun, the production assistant notes to himself, pretty pleased. He’s used to be belittled when introduced as Meian's or Rachel’s assistant. 

Sakusa’s glare shifts from his manager to Atsumu and lingers there as Higuchi has them turn around to walk down the corridor.

Atsumu’s slight smile widens in a bigger grin. Well, he might be able to put up with the asshole’s shenanigans if his representatives are all as good-natured and polite, right?

He’ll still get to see him work his magic on set, can avoid him enough when he’s out of duty and both Kita and Meian will be happy with the result.

Atsumu might not have lost this round entirely, he thinks as he raises a hand to give Sakusa an obnoxious little wave.

Sakusa breaks eye contact, turning away definitely without returning the gesture. And here Atsumu was almost expecting him to be petty enough to flip him the bird… 

It’s fine, though. The production assistant throws his hands back in the pockets of his slacks, not entirely displeased with the way things are going. He can tame this guy, for sure, or at least look like it, and then he can help turn this film into something perfect. 

Plus, Atsumu realizes as he watches them go, putting up with someone’s atrocious personality is something he was raised doing and that his career in an industry full of sharks trained him for. And some sharks, or grumpy cats in this case, have definitely a nice ass to look at to make up for the sharp teeth and claws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. Sakusa is properly introduced, it's showdown time! Please bear with him, he needs a chance, I swear.  
> I've completed the out-line of the fanfic too, I mean entirely, and it's going to be a little more dramatic than the crack fic I intended it to be at first but I wanted to give a shot at a plot with more depth and feels. It will STILL be ridiculous enough hopefully ahah but yes, it'll be more intense!
> 
> Chapters will also get a little longer after this one :)
> 
> Let me know what you thought, it really helps ♥


	4. Legally bound, for better or worse

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴.𝟹 — 𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝙼𝚂𝙱𝚈 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙳𝚄𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙸𝙲𝙴, 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 𝚂𝙿𝙰𝙲𝙴 — 𝙳𝙰𝚈

“I don’t get you, ‘Tsumu. Now, stop bangin’ your head on that desk and print the crew allergies list for me,” Osamu asks, entirely nonplussed. 

Atsumu, face crushed against the hard surface, turns slightly, slowly bringing one of his arms over the desk as if it was weighing a ton just to flip him off. 

"Atsumu, you done over there? I need you to go escort Rachel up to my office. She'll be there in five."

"Five?!" Atsumu's head finally snaps up, eyes going wide as he slams his hand on the keyboard to revive his sleeping laptop. 

Meian is standing in the doorway of the tiny open space, giving him a critical look. 

"Yeah, I told you this morning the meeting might be rescheduled for her to catch her plane. It happened. Can you go?" 

The production assistant's eyes shift back and forth between his boss at the door and his brother, still perched on his desk with a poorly concealed mocking grin. 

Atsumu's eyes narrow into slits.

"Yeah, yeah I can, Meian-san. I'll escort that dickhead on the way back, too."

"Oi, I'm sorry your death sentence caught up to you but I need that list, shithead," Osamu protests. 

"You boys really are Tweedledumb and Tweedledick, aren't you."

"He's the dick," Atsumu answers, outraged just as Osamu's "He's the dumb one," comment flies, effectively proving the producer's point. 

"Get that list and get _going_ ," Meian stresses clearly, despite his fond grin. 

Atsumu sulks through the list printing and up until the moment they get in the corridor. Osamu gives him another second of silence before attacking again.

"What's the fucking problem, 'Tsumu. Two weeks ago you were ecstatic to get this guy on the casting sheet and now that he's about to get the role you're sulkin' like a big baby! So what if he was an ass to ya! Nothin' strikes me as unusual here, many people experience that sheer need when they meet y—"

"Can you fuckin' not! I'm not sulkin' 'm just… it was so fucking unpleasant, alright? He was an ass, I was an ass, Rachel was an ass, her assistant was somewhere pukin' her guts out—" 

"Charming."

" _And_ in between all that, he was so _good_!" Atsumu groans in high frustration as they reach the elevator. 

Osamu snatches Atsumu’s ID badge to activate the control panel and presses the call button without looking at his brother when he asks: "He was so _good_ or he was so _hot_?" 

"BOTH! Now just—" 

“There's no problem then, idiot!” Osamu shuts him up, turning around to face him with a hard gaze that makes Atsumu want to fight on the spot. “You just need to do what you usually do and fucking take care of 'im just right. Haven't seen a single actor or actress not fawning over you to their agents or whatever. You fuckin' bewitch them, clearly, or they're all nuts to begin with, but that's gonna be the same for that guy. Just stop bein' an ass when he is one and it'll get back to normal. I swear I'm not taking months of _I hate this guy he's too hot and good,_ because I'll kill ya way before we’re done."

_Ding._

The elevator doors open just as Atsumu sends a particularly evil glare to his twin. Not that he's so wrong...

Atsumu knows he's a _little_ on the dramatic side. That one encounter gone wrong doesn't mean he'll do a bad job or that their relationship is not salvageable. But still, there's _something_ about that guy that gets on the PA's nerves so bad!

And today is especially bad because not only does he get to see him again to seal the deal so he has to grow a pair and stop complaining, but—

"It's the last time ya deal with her too, right? Why am I the one to tell you to look at the bright side!" Osamu says — ever on point and making Atsumu want to kick him in the throat affectionately.

The twins cram themselves through the door at the same time, push each other away and Atsumu slams his hand on the control panel to get the lift going. 

Yes, he should be relieved it’s the last day he has to deal with Rachel, but he woke up with the need to be angry at the whole world.

"Oh come on, fuck off 'Samu, I hate it when you do that!" 

"When I'm right?" Osamu has the guts to rub it in his face and Atsumu pretends he didn't hear that. "I gotcha, though. I admit she was a pain in the ass! I still don't get how she landed that position…" 

"Money deal," Atsumu answers tiredly, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. 

"I know but come on! There are only a few minor parts in the script that are American and it's like a few scenes at the end, right?" 

"Yeah, but we're flying a whole crew there to shoot those scenes and there's one here too. They honestly gave us a third of the money for the film, 'Samu. We had to compromise fuckin' hard."

"Hella sucks."

"It's for the film!" 

Atsumu repeats these words so often, and he's still as fiery when he does, that it makes his face heat up when Osamu gives him a fond look for it. Although it's quickly replaced by a suffisant nod.

"Good ya didn't compromise on the food. You'd have eaten god knows fucking what with an American catering."

“You’re as much of a fuckin’ snob as she is,” Atsumu nags him, looking purposefully away. 

“Speakin’ of! Is she so freakin’ special that she can’t ride an elevator alone?”

“Protocols,” Atsumu groans. 

“Protocols my ass. She's so uptight. A wonder you didn't lose your shit with her. For the film, right?” 

His brother gives him a little nudge in the ribs and Atsumu can’t help but feel the corner of his mouth twitch upward. 

“Yeah, right. Don’t tell me about it. The way she talks about talents, I'm… _ugh._ They’re puppets to her. A mean to an end, I swear, no…”

“She sounds so horrible,” Osamu grins. “That’s why I keep away from your lot. Not mingling with the crew and back at the restaurant in between filmings because dealing with a bunch of—”

“I thought you were the nice twin, ‘Samu.”

“Yes, and I’m also the smart one. I know I wouldn’t be able to fuckin’ respect someone so disrespectful, so I stay away to keep my hands outta their faces.”

Atsumu feels a surge of affection for his brother at that. He looks pretty heated when he talks like that.

“I know, I know,” he pats his brother on the arm as if it was a little kid’s. “Can’t stand it when people are big bullies, right?”

“Yeah, that’s why I can’t stand you, scrub! Think so highly of yourself!” Osamu gives in, sticking his tongue out. 

Atsumu laughs instead of getting riled up. Osamu eased him back into a comfortable zone… as always. He won’t say thank you, though. Instead he can make him laugh too. So the production assistant takes his most pretentious little tone and goes just as the elevator arrives at the right floor:

“Exactly! Because we’re oh so more important than a bunch of almighty brainless talents who think they’re the hot shit when really all they have to do is be quiet and act pretty for the cameras.”

The elevator’s _ding_ gets lost in the middle of Atsumu’s terrible mimicry, and he barely registers the doors opening, exiting the little space with a dramatic gesture of the hand, as he delivers the last of his distasteful line.

He registers a lot more Osamu’s hand when it fists at the back of his shirt, stopping him mid-track, which prompts him to reopen his eyes, hand on his chest as he was parading, and to look around.

The floor tilts under his feet, his heart sinking at the pit of his stomach.

“Higuchi-san, Sakusa-san,” Atsumu can hear himself stammer, his voice wavering to a shameful high-pitched tune that desperately sounds like a little dog yelping.

He hears Osamu’s sharp intake of breath behind him, wants to die a little and tries not to blow an entire fuse.

Sakusa is facing away, standing in the middle of the corridor, fists clenched at his sides and chin up while his manager is looking at both brothers with a bright smile, as charming as he was the last time.

“Welcome back to MSBY productions,” Atsumu stutters furthermore, frantically trying to level his voice back to normal. “I didn’t reali—I’ll take you, right away, I—”

_Slam!_

Atsumu feels the air leave his lungs all at once, Osamu’s hand colliding hard between his shoulder blades. The production assistant trips forward, catches himself just when Sakusa decides now is the time to bless them with his attention and Atsumu ends up looking up at him, just to be looked down upon quite disdainfully.

“WELL, your ex-girlfriend sure was a terrible person to talk that way, ‘Tsumu! Glad you dumped her,” Osamu suddenly drops from behind him.

Now it’s something to feel like a piece of crap when one the most beautiful actors of their generation is scanning him with the most scornful glare, but it’s something else to be buried alive by your dumbass of a twin brother who thinks he saved the day.

Ex- _girl_ friend?

Atsumu’s eyes shift to his brother all wild and panicky as he looks back. Osamu seems to realize belatedly he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was there, but contrary to Atsumu he’s perfectly capable of keeping a straight face and only his twin brother can see his shoulders sag minutely and understand Osamu knows he just messed up.

Not losing his composure nonetheless, he gestures toward the two newcomers.

“Miya Osamu, I’m in charge of catering, pleasure to meet ya. I’ll take you to Meian-san, Atsumu right here needs to pick-up someone before he can join you.”

“Ah, perfect! We’re a little early, sorry about this! Sakusa-kun was so eager to have us discuss the contract when he heard the marvelous news,” the actor’s manager explains.

Atsumu can’t look at him, his eyes are back on Sakusa, whose expression is as cold as marble. That guy looks nothing like eager. Nothing. 

“Sure looks like it,” Atsumu breathes out, quietly enough but there’s no way the others didn’t hear him in the silent corridor.

Osamu ostensibly stomps on his foot as he moves aside to gesture toward the elevator a little more insistently. Atsumu jolts but holds back a yelp. _Stop being an ass when he is one and it’ll go back to normal._

Well, yes, it does sound like a great plan said like that, but Atsumu just openly called Sakusa’s lot a bunch of almighty idiots who should just shut the hell up and be content to be hot and as much as he can find ways to say it wasn’t _his_ words, the damage is still done. He looks like a fool, and a snobbish, rude one at that. And a _straight_ one, which all considered, might be the more disastrous news of the morning.

“Come right this way, gentlemen,” Osamu says warmly, eyeing his brother one last time as the three of them get to the elevator.

“I’ll be right back,” Atsumu rushes to tell them, trying not to stare any longer at the actor.

Sakusa is looking at his feet anyway, shoulders hunched, mask pulled high up on his face and trying to put as much distance between him and the two others as he can in the tiny elevator space.

He does look back up once as the doors close, and Atsumu feels like the floor is opening under him again when their eyes meet. Something punches him in the guts, it might be an intuition only but Sakusa doesn’t seem like he wants to be there, and it’s not exactly anger that Atsumu reads in there. For a fleeting moment, Atsumu wonders if he read despair.

The doors close for good and he sucks in a sharp breath before shaking his head hard.

 _No,_ that’s not it. As if he could be angry to be on his way to get the gig of his starting career.

That guy has a terrible personality, that’s all there is to it.

After picking up Rachel from the parking lot — who came with Charlotte and provides Atsumu’s one ally to face the day _finally_ — Atsumu gets some more relief as he’s sent all the way back to pick up the last persons expected to attend their little reunion.

“Miya-san!” Tanaka greets him loudly as the production assistant walks over him and a beautiful young woman.

She gives him a polite nod, as discreet as her manager is loud when he gives Atsumu an informal high five.

“Shimizu-san, Tanaka-san! Welcome back! I’m so glad you’re both here! See Shimizu-san? Told ya! You were fantastic! Everyone is so thrilled you got Akiko’s part. We’re really looking forward to workin’ with you,” Atsumu tells her with a bright smile and a little wink.

Not that he would dare getting flirty with her ever, and even less in Tanaka’s presence who’s so protective of her. He’s just genuinely happy.

Shimizu Kiyoko was such a pleasant surprise. She’s beautiful, in that same cold and dark way Sakusa can be, and she’s as quiet. No one expected her to switch entirely and morph into that foxy _femme fatale_ Akiko gets to be in the script, but she’s nailing it.

Even Kita was in quiet awe when he met her and could witness her duality first hand, a first up Atsumu’s book. 

Tanaka, as ever, looks so proud of her and the production assistant notices the very short but meaningful squeeze he gives her protégée’s shoulder as they head toward the elevator.

He makes a detour by his office for a few seconds to pick up the contracts he printed earlier in the morning and takes them to Meian’s office at last, all the while listening to Tanaka’s boisterous last news.

Atsumu is enjoying it at first, but as they get closer to the office, Atsumu’s heart starts fluttering in his chest, his stomach getting heavier and heavier. 

“We’re really excited as well! It’s the first time Shimizu-san gets to work with Sakusa-san. We saw a few of his performances so far, and man!”

Atsumu stiffens but knocks at the door nevertheless, hoping his smile doesn’t look as stuck-up as he feels.

“Come in,” Meian invites them from inside.

Atsumu takes a deep breath, diffusing his lack of nerves in a new reassuring wink toward Shimizu then he pushes the door open.

Meian is facing them while Sakusa and Higuchi are sitting with their backs to the newcomers. Osamu is nowhere to be seen, Rachel is sitting on Meian’s desk without any shame and Charlotte, who gives Atsumu a little wave of the hand, is standing in a corner, typing down on her smartphone at the speed of light. 

Meian greets everyone, showing their seats to Tanaka and Shimizu. Sakusa finally looks back, shifting in his seat. Him and his manager get to their feet and Sakusa politely bows in front of his new partner. He doesn’t say a word but there’s no aggressiveness nor hostility in his stance. Shimizu returns the salute with as much deference and Atsumu can’t help but blink a couple of times, stunned.

That’s… something. They _are_ something.

Both dark and fierce beauties on their own, as striking and talented as the other, acknowledging each other in a mundane setting like this. Atsumu can’t help the little chill of excitation running down his spine.

They’re supposed to play lovers, foes and partners. They’re supposed to cry together and love each other until it hurts. Atsumu can’t help but recall each of their auditions and marvel. He forgets that Sakusa is a gloomy bastard and that Shimizu is as delicate as a flower and he can see a storm spark right there.

They’re going to do some _magic._

The production assistant is in the middle of getting totally over-excited when Meian calls for him, _again_ seeing how he snaps a little, giving him a questioning look when Atsumu takes a second too long to react.

“The contracts?”

“Right!” Atsumu suddenly snaps out of his trance, finding out Sakusa’s eyes are fixated on him while Rachel is going on cheerfully about how proud they all are — read _she is_ — they reunited the perfect casting for this film.

Atsumu’s eyes lock on the actor’s too and he can’t help but give him a suffisant glare of his own when he realizes how he’s been seen making a fool of himself _again._ It’s becoming a routine and he hates that the actor has that effect on him.

Sakusa’s brows furrow and he turns away, slouching in his chair a little. How unclassy can this guy get? Atsumu wonders if Kita will be in awe when he witnesses _that_ kind of duality.

Anyway, he can’t linger on the thought and gets moving instead, walking around the office to hand over the different duplicates to the parts involved.

“Atsumu here drafted the contracts with our legal department but feel free to revise it over the next week. The offer is as discussed previously and stands for seven days—”

“No need to revise it,” Sakusa interrupts him in a mumble that startles everyone.

The room freezes over, Atsumu’s blood running cold. Sakusa seems to realize what’s he’s done and how the attention shifted to him, so he gives a shrug and a staid apologetic smile.

“I just think we should trust the brainy almighty production assistant,” he explains, looking at his manager, before targeting Atsumu who _shrinks_ on the spot. 

_What the absolute h—_

“I’ll just smile through it while my literate manager signs for me. Right, Higuchi-san?”

There is a long, too long for comfort, silence that stretches after that, and the room’s temperature drops even lower if possible. Sakusa moved to hand his own duplicate to his manager while saying so, and the grin he offers him from behind his mask clearly drips with venom.

Atsumu knows something’s up, but he can’t quite place it, even less now that there’s no blood left in his face and he’s so mortified he doesn’t dare look up at Meian, knowing too well the producer is drilling holes through him with an inquisitive glare.

Atsumu is so dead when he’s going to explain what the hell was that. Meian is perceptive, and he knows him too well. And although the tension in the room is clear and there _is_ electricity between the actor and his manager, Meian didn’t miss the pointed look Sakusa gave Atsumu in the first place.

“Now, now, Sakusa-kun!” Higuchi suddenly barks a laugh, diffusing the tensed atmosphere with a wave of the hand. “I told you that you can’t look so aloof when you slide a joke in, people will take it the wrong way! I’m sorry, he might be a talented actor but he suffers with the worst timing comedy-wise!” the manager explains, seeming entirely at ease.

Atsumu has no idea how he does that, because if anyone in the room knows Sakusa wasn’t joking there, it has to be Higuchi. Yet he’s playing it off with disconcerting ease, allowing Atsumu to breathe a little anew while setting him on edge too.

He makes a mental note to keep an eye on this guy, as charming as he is. 

“Good thing they’re starring in a thriller, then,” Tanaka joins the fun, unaware of what really happened, apparently pretty amused by Higuchi’s intervention.

“Good thing indeed. But do not worry, Atsumu over there is the king of jokes falling flat,” Meian suddenly jumps in with a knowing smile but only his subordinate notices how sharp his tongue is. “You guys will get along just fine, I’m thrilled to see it!”

The production assistant wishes he could faint or disappear to create some diversion. Sakusa isn’t looking at him, he’s back at slouching in his chair with a glare, Tanaka and Shimizu are going over the first page of their contract and the only person whose attention is solely on Atsumu is Charlotte and she’s giving him an apologetic smile.

Great, now he looks like a total pathetic fool, through and through.

“Anyway, I think that was the last of it? If you don’t want to revise the contracts further, I guess Rachel will settle the offer and we can move on.”

Meian is comfortably sitting in his chair, hands behind his head as he reclines back. They’ve been going over the contracts for an hour now, talking about money and arrangements. None of the talents’ representatives showed much sign of disagreement with the propositions apart from a confidentiality clause in Shimizu’s case and the talents even less. 

“I guess all there is to discuss now are commodities. Since a solid part of the filming will take place in Tokyo, we advise that Atsumu books an hotel suite for each of you there, and we will rediscuss it when we get back to Osaka for the last part of the shooting, if that’s okay with you.”

“I have my own place in Tokyo. You don’t need to cover my living expenses as long as we’re there,” Sakusa speaks up, tone flat and polite this time.

Higuchi is fast to stop him, patting his wrist lightly. The actor moves out of reach.

“Sakusa-kun, we talked about this. You should be housed by the production, there will be people at your door the moment they notice you’re on a new project.”

Sakusa stiffens. 

Atsumu moves toward Meian’s desk to grab back the contracts Rachel is dangling for him like a treat for a dog. He can’t help but observe the actor all along, even as he stays there, arms full and when he should be pissed at her instead. 

“They’ll be at my suite’s door just the same, Higuchi-san. I don’t see why I should throw a tantrum and have them pay extra money for it—”

“Security matters, Sakusa-kun,” Higuchi snaps, for the first time, a little harder than he ever did in front of Atsumu so far, but the PA guesses you can’t always keep your cool when antagonized over and over.

He does get Sakusa’s point, though, and feels even more like an idiot when he recalls having called him a snobbish stuck-up ass… That doesn’t sound like a superstar caprice, on the contrary. Higuchi is right, though. Idols and movie stars get their lot of crazy fans all the time.

“It’s fine, it was listed as a service provided by MSBY productions anyway, and it’s easier that way. We can lead you on set in the morning and drive you back every day, safely,” Meian explains with a conciliatory tone. “We will make sure to look up for various options before sending them over to both your agencies so you can give us a green light when there’s a suitable offer. Atsumu will be the one driving you back and forth, he’s very reliable. In fact, from then on, you may address him if you have any request. He’ll be there for you both and ensure you guys have everything you need.”

Somehow, Atsumu is entirely unprepared for what was always going to be the next logical step. He’s a little taken aback, and can’t help the nice warmth spreading along his nape that goes with a faint blush as Meian winks at him. Atsumu might fuck up at times, but he’s good at what he does, he tries his best and harder all the time, and Meian does rely on him a lot. It’s stupidly pleasant every time Atsumu gets reminded of it and—

“I’ll agree to your conditions if I get a private chauffeur only,” Sakusa’s voice suddenly raises again.

Atsumu’s nice little thoughts get to a jarring halt, his insides churning, and everyone looks back at the gloomy actor. When he looks up, Higuchi’s jaw is hanging slightly, nostrils flaring with anger, but Sakusa only looks at Meian.

“I like to keep my head off work until the very last moment. I’d appreciate a different driver, if that’s okay,” the actor goes on, eyes never drifting toward Atsumu but the production assistant feels like he’s been personally slapped in the face.

Meian does look at him for a second, before turning back toward Sakusa. He seems to calculate what’s the next logical step, then he taps his pen on the surface of his desk as if he’s reached a suitable conclusion and answers:

“Consider it done, Sakusa-san! If you ever change your mind before the shooting starts, or at any point whatsoever, just let us know. And ‘till then, do remember Atsumu is here for you no matter what.”

Sakusa’s eyes settle over his manager who’s fighting to keep a cool, good-natured expression, then linger on Atsumu who is paralized, before going back to Meian. He bows his head lightly and everyone can hear him when he says:

“My mind is made up, but I appreciate it Meian-san.”

“Good. Well, Tanaka-san, if you’d be so kind to stay around so we can break down the clause with Rachel? Higuchi-san, Sakusa-san, Atsumu will walk you back now.” 

“Actually, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you?” Higuchi says as he pushes himself to his feet a little fast. “Sakusa-kun can go back first. Wait for me in the car, will you?” 

“I can—”

“You seem tired from today’s action and we both know how you get when you’re too exhausted. Please, go rest, I want you in peak condition for the photoshoot this afternoon,” Higuchi insists.

“I’ll go with ya,” Atsumu throws himself in before he can _think._

He has no idea why he even gets that heated about it, but he can’t seem to shake off an uncomfortable feeling while observing the exchange. Sakusa stops and considers him coldly.

“I can find my way back. No need to trouble yourself.”

“Actually, you can’t,” Atsumu interjects impatiently. “Not really. You need to be granted special access for the elevator on this floor. It’s fine, I’ll be right back, Meian-san.”

The producer gives him a short nod, barely looking up from the contract splayed on his desk between him and Tanaka and Atsumu walks away toward the door to hold it for the actor.

They both look back at Higuchi one last time, and the latter shoo-es away his protégé without a second thought. 

Sakusa seems defeated enough because he throws his hands in his pockets forcefully and storms past Atsumu without a glance.

The production assistant bites back a click of tongue, chewing down on it instead, and he follows as fast as possible without looking like a desperate idiot. Sakusa is striding toward the elevator without consideration for him at all, as expected, and Atsumu can’t get a sense of what’s actually wrong with him.

But something is off, and it’s not just because of a little audition turned wrong or what he heard when the twins got out of the elevator earlier.

Still… he feels obligated to bar the actor’s way as he presses his ID badge against the panel. 

“Look, can we—I don’t know, like… can we stop all that?” Atsumu finally gathers the courage to burst the nasty bubble.

Sakusa’s dark gaze is unsettling, his posture defensive, but he seems inclined to listen if only a little. 

“I’m sorry, for what you heard earlier? I didn’t mean that! It wasn’t me talkin’! I’m sorry if I gave you a bad impression, but can we try here? I’ll try and make it better, just tell me what it is! We’re gonna work together a lot from now on, I don’t—”

“It doesn’t matter if you meant it or not,” Sakusa interrupts Atsumu’s rant abruptly. “I don’t need a personal assistant, I just need to be left alone!”

A surge of anger takes over the production assistant. 

“Uh?! What’s with that! You can’t stand having commoners around you, that’s it? You need space? You can’t even have me drive you on set in the morning because you can’t get along with peasants like us?”

Atsumu goes too far, can’t help himself nonetheless and slams his mouth shut too late. Sakusa doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch from the attack. His eyes only narrow after some time, then he brings a hand up to fiddle with his mask and drags it higher over his nose.

“Yes, that’s right. That’s exactly what it is. See? It doesn’t matter if you meant it or not, I’m nothing more than an almighty brainless talent and I’ll do my job of being pretty and shut up if you can fucking do yours and stay in your lane. Don’t come near me when it’s not necessary, and don’t come near my manager.”

Sakusa’s tone is implacable, harsh, and Atsumu feels like he’s been slapped again, more viciously this time. He swallows back the lump in his throat, dying to say something else, but he can’t bring himself to. They challenge each other for a moment in silence, Atsumu desperate to pinpoint what _is_ off, but Sakusa’s cold-stone face is unreadable. He gives nothing away, and Atsumu eventually gives up.

“So that’s it,” Atsumu eventually gives him a grin full of bitterness as the elevator’s doors open. “You know, no one forced you to be here, you lucky prick. So let’s make a little deal. If you wanna take it on people, take it on me.”

He gets a little bold and the moment Sakusa walks past him to get in the elevator, Atsumu slams a hand against the frame to keep the doors open and lean into the actor’s space, following him when it’s the least wise thing to do.

He doesn’t care that Sakusa presses the button to the lowest floor, he’s too focused on getting his point across.

“I’m not letting you get to anyone else. You’ve got a problem with me? Great. Keep it that way. If I can’t do my job properly with you, I’ll do it with the others by takin’ bullets for them. That’s what I _do._ So you know what, _Kiyoomi-kun?_ Give it your all,” Atsumu hisses, the doors having shut behind them long before as he realizes he’s boxed Sakusa against the far wall of the lift.

His veins are buzzing, so is his mind. His fingers are hitching. Sakusa doesn’t let up, doesn’t look away, even when he calls him by his given name. His eyes just gleam a little more intently. But he’s there, pressing back, if not with his body, with his blazing gaze.

“If that’s what you need to be on your game, try me. I’ll be as insufferable as you want, and if just breathing your way is enough to upset you, even better. Don’t hold back. I’ll give ya what you need, and we’re gonna shoot hell of a movie, deal?”

“You don’t know the first thing about me, Miya,” Sakusa bites back, oddly still not backing away from him despite the absolute proximity. “I wonder who’s the almighty fuck here.”

“Just consider you found yourself some solid competition.”

_Ding._

Atsumu steps back finally, throat dry as hell. The intensity is suffocating, Sakusa’s presence really can swallow him up whole, even out of a performance. The production assistant isn’t mad he gets to walk away.

Sakusa stops to gauge him one last time before he storms off the elevator, and Atsumu feels equally bitter and excited. A confusing mix of feelings he’s starting to associate with that bastard more and more.

“Thank you for your visit, we hope to see you back at MSBY productions soon, _sir_ ,” he calls after him.

Sakusa doesn’t look back. Atsumu sags against the wall the moment the elevator closes again on him.

* * *

“Cha-chan!” 

The aforementioned woman right out snorts at the nickname and turns her head, nursing her cocktail to her chest. Atsumu grins and closes the space between them, leaning against the same wall as she does. 

“Damn, Miya, it’s been ages!” She says with a crooked little smirk.

She looks like she wished she could melt into the wall to disappear away from the crowd and Atsumu doesn’t blame her. The music is loud, most people are quite drunk by now and she barely speaks Japanese so mingling with others is an ordeal.

He’s not especially enthusiastic to be here himself and hasn’t crossed many people’s path yet. Actually she might be the first real conversation he has had since he arrived at this club, and it could be a relief after dealing with the rest of the crew so tightly over the last few days. 

“You good all by yourself?” he asks in English, bringing his beer to his lips. “You prolly start to feel like time is stretchin’, right?”

He’s not drunk yet. He arrived late to the party, dragging Osamu along the way despite the adamant rebuttal after they were done with a very exhausting day full of last-minute preparations… and as usual, it turned against him the moment they stepped in. Osamu _is_ already drunk because he downed a few shots on an empty stomach to gather up some courage, Osamu is swaying a few feet away from Suna, the same key grip as the last movie they shot with MSBY productions and Osamu isn’t _subtle._

Atsumu is too drained to be mad at him, and it’s at least funny enough to get his head out of the gutter anyway.

December went by so fast, they can hardly believe they’re thirty six hours away from the first day of filming. The get-together was a pain to organize as much as was organizing transportation and housing for the crew in Tokyo and the twins are at the end of their rope, as it’s customary for production assistants at this stage of preparations.

The party is nice, though, it’s the 3rd of January so it’s still technically time to celebrate the New Year, in the capital no less… Atsumu feels a little happier when he realizes everyone else is enjoying their night and it’s thanks to his hard work.

He didn’t even have much time to think about Sakusa over the last four weeks. The actor went back to Tokyo after that disastrous contract signing for a few commercials and Atsumu’s interactions with him were limited to a few emails. Each of them had Higuchi’s address attached in copy, as prescribed by contract, to indicate to them both where and when the next rehearsal would be scheduled with Shimizu, Kita, or the rest of the talents.

Everything Atsumu did, he operated from Osaka, not without going through a painstakingly long and shame-inducing conversation with Meian where he had to reassure his boss that nothing was up with the actor and everything was clear between them.

He’s been left with half-assed advice about not being too hard on Sakusa because he was going through a lot, apparently. That incidentally earned Atsumu a smack behind the head two days later, when Osamu could no longer hear him complain that Sakusa had no right having people think he was going through _a lot_ when he had a silver spoon up his ass and so much talent on his hands that it was sickening and ungrateful of him to even complain.

Sakusa always answered politely to the emails. Curtly. And Kita had seemed perfectly content — as un-effusive as he was — with the way things were going in Tokyo every time he’d called the production house or dropped by to have lunch with Meian, thanking Atsumu for his hard work so…

The production assistant at least feels like it wasn’t all for nothing. That no matter what will happen on set, they will have a great time and the film is going to be a gem.

He is about to cheer to that when he’s dragged back in the loud club’s atmosphere:

“ _She_ might have abandoned me here to deal with the last few things but I’m not gonna complain,” Charlotte answers with an aggravated sigh and Atsumu gives her a knowing smile. “I had fun. You guys were fun to work around I guess, and I like Tokyo, I’m glad I could see it.”

Charlotte is going back to New-York City tomorrow night, and then their ties with Rachel’s office will be officially cut until the moment her name resurfaces in the film’s credits.

“Now, now! Don’t you owe her your life or something equally insane?” 

“I probably owe Rachel more than that, if you listen to her,” Charlotte answers, raising her drink in a silent cheer. “Is that your brother?” 

The change of subject isn’t so surprising. It’s not like they’re close friends but the few times they spent together over the last month and a half had Atsumu convinced Charlotte is using Rachel more than the other way around to climb up a few steps. And if she’s going to avoid talking about her by picking on Osamu, Atsumu is all here for it.

“Him? Nah! He’s just a talentless copycat,” the production assistant grins.

“Oh really? How does it feel being less pretty than your doppelganger, then?” 

Atsumu chokes on his beer, lowering the beverage as he squints at her, properly outraged.

“You’re not makin’ me say my twin brother is ugly,” he groans loud enough for her to hear.

“He’s not. I would totally make out with him now that business is over,” Charlotte says with a serene little smile, sipping more of her cocktail while looking straight at the production assistant instead of his brother.

Atsumu snorts.

“Trust me, he’d make out with you too if he wasn’t already busy makin’ a fool of himself in front of that guy other there!” he comments, gesturing toward Osamu who’s now laughing at something Suna said to... _someone else._

God, he’s going to kick his ass when they go home, this is so embarrassing, even Atsumu would never—Charlotte clicks his tongue.

“That’s _too bad_ ,” she insists and Atsumu suffers whiplash when his not-yet inebriated mind finally gets it.

She would totally make out with his doppelganger… And she’s leaning toward him with a challenging look. Osamu better get his shit together and find a way to go home with the key grip, because he’s not going back to their shared hotel room. Charlotte, on the other hand—

“Atsumu, _thank fuck,_ I searched for you _everywhere_!”

Thank fuck? _Really?_

They’re so close Atsumu believes he can _hear_ Charlotte _cringing_ at the interruption despite the loud beat over their heads. He’s not far from grinding his teeth himself, but he turns around anyway to face Shion Inunaki, one of the two assistant directors. 

“Inu-san, my man! What are you doing here?” Atsumu exclaims, glare as murderous as his smile is blinding bright.

He better take the hint and he better take it fast because Charlotte doesn’t look like the patient kind.

“Well, I _was_ enjoying myself and waiting for you for the best part of the night,” the assistant director starts loudly, eyes roaming around the club, going in and out of focus more than once.

He’s not hammered but clearly not far.

“Yeah! Thanks for that! ‘Samu and I left the office at eleven because you guys left us to deal with scheduling the extras’ transportation. I’m sure fuckin’ glad you’re having the time of your life,” the PA jokes.

He’s not resentful, it’s part of the job, but he’s tired enough to rub it in Inunaki’s face a little.

“Yeah, well! I _was,_ like I said. Remember when you said hoisting the get-together in a public club wasn’t super smart with a pair of renown movie stars?”

Atsumu tilts his head to the side, downing a good third of his pint at that.

“So what? Here to tell me I was wrong? Sorry for bein’ extra careful, man. Now if ya _will_ excuse—”

“No, Atsumu… You were _right._ We might have a problem, and everyone is kind of fried already but you just made it here and…”

Inunaki hesitates to go on and Atsumu pulls his beer out of his face immediately, body stiffening as his mind shifts on alarm mode. Shimizu’s face immediately flashes before his eyes. What if some gross guy overstepped in a dark corner of the club and got to her—

“It’s Sakusa. He almost passed out a few minutes ago. I have Adriah with him now in the back alley but… man, it’s bad. Adriah is plastered too, and Sakusa’s manager left earlier. We haven’t been able to contact him—Hey! Atsumu! Wait! Oi!”

Atsumu doesn’t listen, Inunaki’s last words drowned under the club music and the crowd’s noises, as he elbows his way through the dance floor. He moves on auto-pilot, head empty but for a pair of dark eyes, heart hammering as he gets to the exist without even looking back.

He thinks maybe he can hear Charlotte calling after him, but the moment it happens, Atsumu slams his far from empty glass on a high table on his way out.

Osamu can make a fool of himself in front of Suna tonight and come back empty handed to their hotel room, it’ll be fine. 

Atsumu doesn't intend to bring anyone home anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chaotic bisexual Miya twins agenda is shining because I think Atsumu shouldn't be the only twin to make a fool of himself in front of any gender whatsoever. Gay panics incoming on both parts, though, I'll have Osamu suffer a lot to get with Suna. (It's going to be minor and in the background, really, but I'm more comfortable with tagging it so it doesn't surprise anyone when the ship is mentioned or acting in the plot!)
> 
> Other than that, we're finally getting serious with our main dish!
> 
> Thank you for following this, I'm getting so invested in this story! ♥


	5. A fleeting weakness and the coldness of unsteady hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for this chapter: depiction of intense inebriation/alcohol intoxication + a little dose of angst  
> A song you can listen to while reading: [Naïve.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYinBagnW3I)  
> The lyrics are oddly fitting (parts of the translation in the end notes)

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴 𝟺. - 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝚈 𝙱𝙴𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙳 𝙰 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙲𝙻𝚄𝙱 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙾𝙺𝚈𝙾 - 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃

Atsumu doesn’t go to clubs often, but when he does, he usually stumbles out of them. Tonight, he’s never had such a clear mind as he races out, ignoring the bouncer when he asks if he’s got his stamp on his forearm in case he wants to go back in. The streets are still crowded despite the late hour, the air is freezing as expected of a January night.

The production assistant doesn’t care, elbows a drunk idiot out of his way and goes to round the corner of the building. The back alley isn’t crowded in the least. There’s a group of younger people at the far end, huddled together while chatting and visibly smoking something that seems not legal in the least, and then…

“Adriah!” Atsumu calls before dashing toward the only two other forms in the dead-end.

There’s a body slouched on the pavement against the brick wall, the other — who’s crouching over the first one — almost falls backward at the sound of Atsumu’s voice. The production assistant’s jaw clenches, they’re all so drunk and it’s barely midnight…

There’s no time to get annoyed about it, though.

Atsumu can finally make out more than shapes when he closes in and the sight is honestly concerning. Sakusa’s eyes are closed, but he’s deeply frowning, his face scrunched up in obvious discomfort, so it's obvious he’s at least not passed out. Atsumu notices his labored breathing, his trembling lips and heaving chest before actually computing _why._ Sakusa isn’t wearing any jacket.

Atsumu drops on the pavement while shrugging his own coat off.

“Atsumu, I—” 

“What happened? Where’s his goddamn manager?” The production assistant doesn’t waste time, remembering to speak English for his colleague.

Adriah is another, way more pleasant — usually that is — compromise they had to make with the American co-producing house and his Japanese isn’t great when he’s sober already.

Atsumu scouts closer to Sakusa to cover him with his coat while awaiting an answer.

The cold is immediately biting his biceps but he ignores it.

The actor huddles in on himself, his nose disappearing under the collar of Atsumu's puffy coat. He’s so tall, yet he looks so vulnerable right now. Atsumu is about to ask again when Adriah speaks up, clearly struggling to get the words out in the right order:

“Manager left. Like an hour ago-ish? I think, I don’t—well he’s drunk.”

“No shit! How did it happen?” Atsumu presses on, and suddenly his stomach drops, dread viciously worming its way inside his chest. “Did anyone tamper with his drink?” 

He looks at the group in the dead-end while his mind reels then reaches forward to touch Sakusa’s face but the moment his fingertips brush the flushed skin peeking out from under Atsumu’s coat, something wild happens. Although Sakusa’s eyes barely flutter open, he gets a lot more lively and suddenly flails his arm to try and push Atsumu back rather forcefully. He’s disoriented enough to miss punching him and instead clamps down on his forearm, as if to steady himself.

The production assistant doesn't entirely process that, though, because the actor is trying to speak at the same time and the words come out harsh and out of breath, defensive and hurried: “I said don’t touch me!” but mostly… desperate.

“No one touched his drinks, Atsumu,” Adriah speaks from above him now that he’s on his feet. “They were with the managers and Kiyoko-san. Did shots, too. ‘t’s not like anyone could touch his.”

Atsumu takes the information in but doesn’t answer. Instead he leans closer to Sakusa, keeping his hands to himself. Sakusa is hugging himself under the coat, a slow wheezing sound coming out erratically with half of the labored breaths he exhales.

The production assistant’s eyes shift toward both ends of the alley, then back on Adriah.

“Get inside, get his stuff, and get me some water. Two bottles if you can. Try to find out how much he drank. I’ll call a taxi, you hurry,” he orders fast, keeping his voice low.

“D’you know where he lives?” Adriah asks, dumbfounded.

Atsumu wishes he had the time to roast him on the spot but instead he just gives him a pitiful glance.

“If I know where? Dude, I organised everyone’s fuckin’ life, ya serious right now?”

“The movie!” Adriah suddenly blurts out, slapping both of his hands on his mouth while his eyes go wide.

“ _Shaddup_!” Atsumu urges him, eyes darting toward the group a little further. “Move!”

“Right! Stuff, water, two bottles, drinks and a taxi!” Adriah recites for himself while he turns on his feet.

At least he kept his insane memory even if he lost half his brain to booze, a perfect little AD.

Damn, it’s a good thing Atsumu has seen this giant guy come up with genius answers to solve their tight schedule problems because, right now, Atsumu feels terribly alone. He really can’t waste any time lamenting on his terrible fate, though.

His attention focuses back on Sakusa, whose respiration somehow slowed a lot during the stupid back and forth. His head is lolling to the side, but that’s not what makes a new surge of adrenaline kick in for Atsumu.

The actor’s eyes are cracked slightly, barely open, and… all the young man can see is _white_ underneath. Oh no!

“Please, don’t pass out, hey! _Hey!_ it’s me, Adriah fucked off, it’s Miya,” he says, grabbing Sakusa by the shoulders, careful to do it through his own coat, to force him to sit up straight against the brick wall. 

Considering how at odds they are, these aren’t the most reassuring words he could find but maybe they can provoke something? Anything? Any stimulation, just a voice should be enough to keep the actor from falling into an alcohol coma, right? Or not...

Atsumu can’t do this.

“C’m’on! How much did ya fuckin' hav—Hey!” 

Sakusa’s face drops and Atsumu curses through his teeth. This is a nightmare. The star of the long feature he worked to prepare for so long and whom he's responsible for is about to pass out in his arms in a dirty back alley? No. No! Even in the worst B movie, there's no way that would happen.

“Get a grip, please. I’ll get you home. I promise, please just don’t—”

Atsumu’s hands instinctively slip up, off Sakusa’s shoulders and to his face instead. He's not responding and now Atsumu is scared. He's pissed off with him, but he never wished for Sakusa to end up like this.

Again, it strikes him how his first impression from when he saw him immaculate and beautiful on this billboard can get messed up. Sakusa is still as gorgeous, but after seeing him grumpy and childish, now Atsumu gets to see him vulnerable, enough to be scared for him. Atsumu hates the conflicted feelings that worm their way inside his brain.

He can’t bother with them, though.

He cups the actor’s jaw, eyes widening when he realizes how _hot_ his skin feels under his touch. The contrast with the coldness surrounding them triggers a nasty shudder that wrecks Atsumu’s back.

What is he even supposed to do in case Sakusa gets alcohol poisoning and falls into a coma? He can’t perform CPR on him! Sakusa would kill him? He’d die anyway before he gets his lips to—

What is he even thinking!

“Get a fuckin’ grip too, Atsumu!” the assistant snaps at himself miserably.

He must be out of his mind. Maybe he should take him to the ER if he spiraled low enough to panic over having to give the actor a platonic normal procedure to save his life if needs be?

“Let—me go. ‘on’t—”

Atsumu startles, his grip on Sakusa’s jaw tightening for a split second before he retracts at Mach speed. Sakusa’s eyes are open, although unfocused and half-lidded. But he seems fully conscious.

The pang of relief in Atsumu’s chest is frankly overwhelming. It makes him dizzy, wondering if the beer he downed is at fault here.

“Are you—A… You’re okay. You're okay now,” he blurts out shifting from a question to raw assertion as he sits back on his knees to fish for his phone a little clumsily. “Keep your eyes open.”

Sakusa is going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.

Atsumu keeps his eyes trained on him as he fidgets with his app to order a cab. Sakusa's dark eyes close again, but his face seems a little more relaxed now, as if he’s slowly swept away by heavy slumber.

“Nu-uh, no! Sakusa— _Kiyoomi-kun!_ Keep your eyes on me,” Atsumu doesn’t even think before he pushes his free hand into the actor’s face again, landing on his nose.

It’s cold, unwelcomed, and Sakusa’s eyes flutter open once more. The frown is back too. He tries to mumble something unflattering, Atsumu takes his hand back again. Presses his fingers into rosy, overheating cheeks instead.

Sakusa gets antsier everytime and Atsumu doesn’t particularly enjoy it, if he’s honest, but it has the warranted effect of keeping the drunken man awake while Atsumu completes his operation.

By the time he’s done, Sakusa is trying to shuffle against the wall, obviously uncomfortable with the slouching stance, but he fails and Atsumu can’t bring himself to manhandle him again, now that Sakusa’s alert enough to glare nervously everytime Atsumu’s hand fills his field of vision. 

“Atsumu!”

Adriah’s voice echoes in the dark alley and Atsumu flinches. The group over there hasn’t moved and he’s sure they’re all drunk or high by now, but he couldn’t help himself and move to shield Sakusa from them, just in case, so Adriah’s loud voice isn’t as comforting as it could be.

He’s not stumbling, at least, the adrenaline probably made him sober up if only a little, as he walks up to them with a thin jacket bundled in his arms. Did Sakusa come here with a V-neck and a poor jacket when it's freezing outside?

“Here you go,” the assistant director says proudly as he produces two little water bottles from the folded piece of clothes. “How’s he doing?” 

“Like utter shit, man. But he’s awake…” Atsumu says, concerned by the fact Sakusa doesn’t bite anything back at the rude statement. “Thanks. Did ya find out?”

“Find out? F—Oh!” Adriah crouches next to them, leaning over Sakusa.

Atsumu jerks forward instantly to push him out of the actor’s face. Adriah wobbles and backs off, sheepish.

“Ah yeah! Uh, Tanaka said they did shots,” Adriah explains, jumping from Japanese to English halfway.

Not so sobered up, then. Atsumu rolls his eyes impatiently, eyes locked on Sakusa’s scrunched up face while he carefully breaks one of the bottles’ lid open. 

“You told me that already! Focus Adriah, how much? C’m’on, Kiyoomi-kun. _Omi-kun,_ eh!”

Atsumu tries to get Sakusa’s attention and surprises himself as he blurts out things at the top of his head. 

It’s not as effective as he wishes it was, and he knows that state all too well. Even if it’s not a coma and they don't necessarily risk alcohol poisoning anymore, Sakusa isn't in the clear yet. He must be craving nothing but to fall asleep hard right now. A terrible mistake as it stands. 

He considers touching his face again but can’t shake off the memory of Sakusa’s last heated glare. He drags his hand to his shoulder again, shaking him lightly — hoping it won’t make him nauseous — to jerk him awake.

“Y’need to drink some water. Please work with me,” he says as gently as possible despite how much the situation is starting to get on his nerves.

He can’t blame him. He can’t. Or maybe he can, for being silly and drinking too much, but Atsumu can’t do it now.

He brings the bottle to Sakusa’s lips as the actor fights both the way the PA is shaking his body and to force his eyes open.

“Three,” Adriah drops out of nowhere.

“Uh?” 

The bottle bumps against Sakusa’s lips, spraying a little water down his chin and making him yelp and jerk away. Atsumu reaches out to stabilize him before he topples over, ignoring the way the actor is glaring murderously past him — although it’s a clear attempt at glaring at _him_ but he’s way too drunk to aim even that.

“Three shots. Tequila and vodka. That’s what he got.”

Atsumu freezes on the spot, fingers digging in the puffy material of his coat where he’s trying to steady Sakusa against the wall.

“Three shots?”

His brows rise stupidly high as he looks back and forth between the actor and his colleague. _Three?_ And he almost passed out on him?

“Are you _sure?_ ” he asks again. “And no one tampered with—”

“No, I’m sure!” Adriah answers, frowning. “Tanaka said he looked a lil’ gloomy after his manager left and they all did that together. Well, whatever he wasn’t making that much sense beyond that, but I’m sure. Why? Wouldn’t you be drunk with shots?”

Atsumu’s jaw drops. The urge to burst and snap is _real_ but Sakusa starts trembling under his grip and they’re running out of time.

“Of course I’d be well on my way to be drunk with three shots but I wouldn’t be half-dead in a back alley Adriah, what the hell!” he whispers to avoid drawing attention but it's a little too aggressive.

He has to focus on getting Sakusa to drink some water and the task seems impossible. More water dribbles down the actor’s chin before he can force a few gulps down, and it’s at the price of a few half-slurred curses and a nasty fit of coughing.

It _hits_ Atsumu as Sakusa dry heaves, head whipping to the side before he bites back a moan and reclines back against the wall.

The twenty-six years old man looks miserable and it’s been a couple of minutes now since he’s stopped trying to murder Atsumu with glares, averting his gaze instead. _Fuck..._

“Is it... is it his first time drinking? Guys, tell me you didn’t let him do vodka shots if he never dr—”

“I don't know! He seemed to know what he was doing,” Adriah answers, looking out for the end of the back alley, looking less and less drunk and more and more miserable himself.

“He sure does now, right? Fuck! Look at him!” Atsumu can’t help but finally snap, worrying at his lips when he sees Sakusa’s eyes fill with tears as he’s seized by another fit of coughing after forcing more water down. “Something’s not right! You should have kept an eye on him, on Shimizu too! We’re shooting in two days and—”

“Yeah I know, but it’s a party, Atsumu! We were just chilling!”

“No! It’s not about fuckin' chillin’, dumbass! They’re literally the two people we need to look out for! That’s the kind of things you check before taking a fuckin’ break!”

Atsumu shuts his mouth, eyes going wide, tensing all over when he remembers they’re not entirely alone. Adriah looks mortified and Atsumu curses through his teeth, feeling like an ass. Not that he’s wrong, but...

“Well sorry for not babysitting him, okay? I mean it. We fucked up, but how were we supposed to—”

Adriah trails off, wincing before he swallows back a weird drunken hiccup. Poor guy _does_ need a break now, and to nurse a nasty hangover visibly.

The production assistant sighs hard and long. His phone vibrates in his back pocket with a notification. The taxi must be there and there’s no use getting angry now.

“Sorry, man. I’ll handle it. I’ve got him,” he exhales.

He’s not mentally prepared for it but still shifts closer to Sakusa’s side to slip an arm behind him and wrap it around his shoulders.

The actor tenses up. Atsumu tastes bitterness at the back of his throat. He’s done with tonight.

“Let’s get ya up,” he mumbles nonetheless. “Cab is here.”

“I’ll help,” Adriah offers, but Atsumu flashes him a _don’t you dare_ look before softening a little.

It’s not even because he’s mad at his colleague, but, he realizes belatedly, it’s because he doesn't want Sakusa to feel anymore overwhelmed than he already is with someone else fussing over him. He seems to genuinely loathe physical contact and Atsumu might as well keep that only to the stricly necessary amount of touching.

“I’ve got this. Sorry, thank you but… You know what? Go back inside, have a good time. It’s fine! It’s fine, I—” he stammers a little, unable to hold Adriah’s gaze.

Getting Sakusa — who’s taller than Atsumu and who clearly doesn’t skip the gym despite his lean looks — isn’t an easy task, even more as he sways on his feet and leans heavily against the production assistant. 

The worst part is that he’s clearly not happy with that outcome, relying on him only because it’s the sole way not to drop back on the pavement.

“No, Atsumu, I know we messed up—”

“It’s fine! I overstepped, it wasn't cool. I’m just nervous, okay?” Atsumu answers Adriah to distract himself from his sour thoughts. “I mean it, though, don’t worry and go back to the party. Tell them he’s okay, I’ve got him,” he repeats. “I’m droppin’ him at his hotel, he’ll be fine. Don’t contact his manager anymore though. If you hear from him, tell him Sakusa made it back safely to the hotel.”

“Don’t—Reisi, don’t…” Sakusa tries to mumble against Atsumu’s hair before he trips forward.

Atsumu catches him before he can fall, temple scorching from the ghost touch of the actor’s lips. His coat falls on the ground, which Adriah picks up for them. 

“We’re not callin’ him, big boy! Don’t worry,” Atsumu reassures him, walking them toward the end of the back alley.

“I’ll walk you to the taxi, get your stuff and—”

“Thanks,” the production assistant says, finally a little grateful for his colleague’s presence.

If Adriah shrugs or nods, Atsumu doesn’t see it. He’s currently entangled in a juggling game that is exhausting enough on its own. Sakusa keeps pushing back and trying to get away from him as fiercely as he clings onto him to steady himself and the physical ordeal reaches its peak when he has to figure out how to drop him inside the taxi.

The way the driver immediately asks if he’s _drunk_ with mistrust and disdain isn’t pleasant either and Atsumu is so, so tired, when he answers: “He’ll be okay, I swear.”

“I won’t puke,” Sakusa choses this precise moment to hammer a few words that finally make sense.

He sounds so aggressive and steady, so eager to make his point that Atsumu just stares for a second, only snapping out of it when Adriah throws their jackets and the remaining bottle of water in his lap.

Sakusa nestles against the opposite door, snatching Atsumu’s coat, the puffier and heavier one, away from him with a shaky grip to provide a makeshift pillow for his face. He's coherent enough for that, it should be encouraging but Atsumu feels so bad for him...

Atsumu still thinks it’s a bad idea for him to fall asleep right away, but it’s a better option than taking the risk to have him suffer motion sickness. There’s no doubt the driver would throw them out the instant Sakusa starts retching. 

He doesn’t have the heart to wake him up anyway, Atsumu realizes after spending the first two minutes of the ride considering it. He’s pissed off by the turn of events but he knows a part of himself being angry at Sakusa is biased.

He was stupid once too. Some would say he still _is._ Point is, Atsumu drank past his limits more than once before finding them, and did it again after that. 

The production assistant looks out the window, propping his chin on his fist, jutting his bottom lip out, lost in thoughts.

He fucking freaked out, back there. He freaked out for the asshole who specifically told him to back off a month ago. Atsumu can’t place why, but his heart is racing when he thinks about the way Sakusa can get on his nerves yet he still wants nothing but to make sure he makes it home safely. He doesn’t know what’s up with this guy.

The short amount of time he spent admiring him, expecting the best of him, before meeting him in the flesh and falling face first down a flight of stairs can’t justify alone the conflicted feelings Atsumu is experiencing. There’s something else than finding him beautiful, too uptight or pretentious. There’s something else than being in awe when Sakusa _plays_ and getting riled up when he’s being a bastard.

Atsumu squeezes his eyes shut and for some reason, his brain conjures up a mental image of Sakusa leaning away from his touch in the back alley, Sakusa tensing up as Higuchi gets a hold of him in a corridor…

He’s _vulnerable._

Still not a good reason to be an asshole. Atsumu would know, he rarely finds solid excuses to justify his behavior and gets called out by his brother all the time for it. But when he does… when he has reasons to act like that, they’re never pretty.

The assistant opens his eyes again, stealing a glance sideways. Sakusa’s face is pressed into his coat, almost entirely hidden. He’s sleeping. Atsumu chest tightens. 

He looks a lot less troublesome than he actually is, like this.

_Don’t come near me._

Atsumu flinches at the memory. 

“You’re a real bastard,” he mutters for himself.

_But what is it you’re hiding…_

Before he can get entangled in his thoughts some more, the ride is over.

The driver eyes them nastily as Atsumu gets Sakusa to wake up, not without some difficulty, and he drives away like a madman the moment they end up on the sidewalk in front of the hotel with their belongings.

“Thanks for nothin', asshole!” Atsumu barks after him, Sakusa wobbling against him. 

“Takes one t’know one,” he hears him slur, chewing half the words.

Atsumu is a little taken aback to find him _that_ coherent, considering everything. He’s still too pissed off and exhausted to engage in the banter fully, and doesn’t expect Sakusa to follow with a clear mind anyway but he does smirk a little when he bites back:

“Precisely.”

Sakusa tries to shove him away but almost trips forward, gets angry, and Atsumu holds back a particularly annoyed click of tongues. He should drop the act already, it's not like Atsumu is going to see him any less of a man now. He's seen him particularly low already and he still wants — for a reason he definitely can't explain — to protect him from his own unsteady steps and get him to safety.

“I’m walking you to your fuckin’ room, princess. Whether you want it—”

Atsumu is cut short as he gets elbowed in the jaw, his teeth snapping painfully. Sakusa’s aim is clumsy and it doesn’t come with full force because of his state but once Atsumu recollects from the shock, eyes wide as he massages his hanging open jaw… he can see that the actor _meant_ it. His eyes are _black,_ and he looks livid under the streetlights.

“ _Never_. Call me, I—Never call me that!” He spits furiously.

Atsumu can’t even answer at that for a moment, absolutely stunned. Sakusa wouldn’t have reacted any more violently had Atsumu used a _slur,_ and that simple fact slaps him across the face.

“I—I’m…”

The actor staggers once more and Atsumu has to step in to hold him again, still dumbstruck. Sakusa tries to shrug him off but he’s too weak for it, too drunk to be coordinated.

“Let go!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I won’t say it again, I—”

“‘m’na be ‘ick,” Sakusa interrupts Atsumu, crumbling against him, twitching in his arms. 

“Oh shit, oh f—hold on!” 

The production assistant barely has enough time to spin them around and grip the back of Sakusa’s jacket — which he forced him to put on when they got out of the taxi — that the actor doubles over, right above the gutter.

He dry heaves, trembles under Atsumu’s touch and Atsumu feels for him, forgetting his anger or his exhaustion for a moment.

Nothing comes out in the end, but he seems to suffer enough.

“Come on. I’ll get you inside,” Atsumu offers, reaching down to wipe Sakusa's bangs off his face. 

Sakusa can’t even fight him this time and he follows heavily as Atsumu guides them into the hotel lobby.

It’s awfully silent at this hour, only half lit too. The clerk behind the fancy desk at the opposite side of the room looks up as they make their way inside but quietly goes back to her computer when she notices Sakusa’s state.

They choose this establishment for many reasons; the privacy it provides is one of them. 

Atsumu knows Sakusa’s room number because he made the reservation and set everything for him. Atsumu spent the last month doing everything for him. For the whole crew, for the whole cast... but he's the goddamn star. He had to do so much for him, back in Osaka.

_Don’t come near me._

He’s unfair. Sakusa is _so_ unfair to him.

“I want to go home…” Sakusa suddenly whispers painfully.

Atsumu gapes, calling for the elevator. The actor leans against the wall next to the doors.

He does look wretched. Nothing like the fierce man with his sensual and menacing aura Atsumu panicked over.

For a moment, the production assistant remembers the first time he had to leave Hyogo for work, without his twin. Even without experiencing what Sakusa is going through like tonight, it wasn’t pleasant… But Sakusa is, once again, being ungrateful, isn’t he?

“Aren’t you… You’re from Tokyo, right? What do you even mean?” he asks, conflicted between feeling for the man who’s obviously sad and the aggravation that comes with this new tantrum.

Sakusa’s dark eyes snap up, anguish flashing there. He’s not… playing.

“This isn’t f’cking _home_.”

Atsumu knows there’s more to it than that, things Sakusa isn't saying, but he’s too tired and irked to be fair himself. Instead he can’t help being a little petty.

“Well, no, it’s a freakin’ hotel. Thanks, I’m not _stupid!_ It’s not that bad, though. Actually, it’s the best—”

Sakusa’s deadly glare silences him. But what gets to him the most is the expression that replaces the anger. He looks broken, and not just like a sad drunk.

Atsumu is going to be unfair. Atsumu is going to be _so_ unfair to him...

He doesn't want to, he doesn't want to be like that but—

“I don’t need it. I don’t need to be under—” Sakusa grunts, obviously tasting something particularly unpleasant on his tongue.

The elevator doors open. He drags himself inside without Atsumu’s help, despite struggling. The spite helps him going on:

“‘der surveillance. I could be home, not babied. I—You—y’couldn’t understand.”

He sure doesn't understand. He doesn't understand why Sakusa is like that, and it might be the first time he can't read someone and that makes Atsumu panic.

“I just wanna help!” Atsumu fires back, helpless.

He doesn’t even know where does _that_ come from, but Sakusa is being unfair again. Atsumu doesn't want to be, but he's going to. Oh, he's going to if he can't find the cold reason to help it.

The loop is infuriating. 

“Do you,” Sakusa barks back half-assedly. 

Atsumu recalls more than _ever_ their last encounter in an elevator.

It’s a short ride, this one, so he barely has the time to gather his thoughts and find what to answer that the doors are opening again. 

“I can find my way,” Sakusa surprisingly articulates well enough.

The way he misses the frame of the elevator doors as he tries to support himself on his way out is, not so surprisingly, the proof that he can’t.

It obviously makes him boil, and it frustrates Atsumu all the more. 

As if it was normal to expect of Sakusa to stop being a brat on this particular night when he’s completely drunk, exposed and with someone he distrusts… Still, Atsumu can’t keep his wrathe at bay. Sakusa should accept it instead of being so uptight!

“I’ll have some meds delivered here in the morning. You need a shower ‘n some sleep. I’m not leavin’ until you’re tucked in bed,” he snarls, hand slamming next to Sakusa’s head when they make it to the door.

Sakusa flinches, gets ready to protest, to fight again, but then Atsumu feels like he’s getting at the end of his rope and… it might be his least proud moment, but he can’t think of anything else, he can't refrain any longer.

Unfair.

“I’ll fuckin’ call Higuchi-san.”

The threat is out, and Atsumu can’t place why he feels so horrified with himself. It’s not that big of a deal, Sakusa is a dramatic bastard and Higuchi has to put up with him all the time. Not his fault if Sakusa is too moody and pisses him off when the man is so charming.

But then why… Why does Atsumu feel like a monster, right now?

The look of utter betrayal that flashes in the actor’s eyes doesn’t bring him an answer, but it’s a terrifying demonstration Atsumu would gladly have done without.

There’s literally no other words exchanged after that. 

Atsumu — ever so pushy and forceful Atsumu, who, despite this temperament, knows very well how to never overstep people’s boundaries — feels like he just irremediably crushed Sakusa’s and doesn’t dare invading his space any further.

He stands in the corner of the suite’s main room, twisting his fingers nervously and listening to the faint stream of water as Sakusa showers for what feels like an eternity. He gets sleepy, and tired, and his body gets sore with exhaustion and nerves but he stays there, silent.

The production assistant feels awful but he can’t go. He can’t go before Sakusa steps out of the bathroom and sends him a icy cold glance. He doesn’t seem really surprised to see him standing there, but he clearly is inconvenienced, to put it nicely.

Atsumu can’t say a word, can't find them, in the end. Not words that would make sense or mean anything anyway.

“I’ll go now, then. Get some rest,” he drops, sounding like a robot, instead.

He can’t even offer for him to call if Sakusa needs anything. He can’t stand the idea that the actor would downright shut him down for it.

Somehow they both reach the same conclusion: there’s nothing left to say tonight. They don’t have the energy to get into a fight. Hell, Atsumu thinks, maybe Sakusa doesn’t even think he’s worthy anymore.

It seems like it, when Sakusa disappears in his bedroom and shuts the door behind him without looking back.

It’s starting to be a habit. A bad habit.

Atsumu hates it.

“You alone in there?” Atsumu calls from the entrance of the suite he's staying in, when he makes his way in there a little less than half an hour later.

He’s drained but identifies some noise from the door, and a ray of light from under a closed door. He hopes his night isn't about to get any more _ruined._

“I barfed,” Osamu shouts his answer as he walks out of their shared bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.

Ah. So it’s going to be like that...

“Oh… Well guess Suna's not into that,” the production assistant teases him, but the enthusiasm isn’t there at all. 

He feels so exhausted, so… His mind is still reeling. Osamu observes him as Atsumu pads towards the bathroom himself, shrugging his coat off. He can feel the inquisitive glance that follows him there, but Osamu doesn’t address it.

“Worse,” he says instead, dropping on the couch in the middle of the suite instead of going to his room.

That has Atsumu stop in his tracks, turning around in the doorway.

“He _is_ into that shit? Man, that sucks I didn’t take ‘im for—”

“No, ya freak! I meant what he did…” Osamu growls dramatically as he rolls on the couch like a massive slob. “He _mommed_ me. I ran because that was more embarrassing than puking. He was fussin’ like mad to make me drink water and shit.”

His twin complains as if it was the worst thing that could have ever happened and Atsumu’s heart starts racing a little faster. _Mommed me,_ he said.

He feels unsteady on his feet, despite being clearly sober. Because what he wants to tell Osamu is a very dangerous realization in itself.

Thank god, his twin is too dramatic — at least as much as Atsumu can be, although he’s good at pretending otherwise — so he keeps on whining.

“He offered to hold my hair! Went to follow me in the fuckin’ toilets while I was pukin’ my guts out. Kill me, right?”

Atsumu feels miserable, both for his brother, and for himself, so he doesn’t hold back when he lets go of a terribly suffering and frustrated sigh. It's half muffled by the tee-shirt he pulls over his head to get rid of it, eager to step in the shower.

“Uh? ‘Samu, you’re so _dense_!”

“What? Fuck off! Why are you saying that!” Osamu barks, jumping to sit back in the couch.

Atsumu can’t do this.

He can hear himself snap at Adriah because they couldn’t look out for Sakusa as if the movie was the thing that really mattered… then he can see himself refraining from giving Sakusa a soothing back rub on the sidewalk as he retches, he sees himself unable to keep his hands to himself and brushing dark curls back... and it’s enough to make him throw his dirty shirt at his twin’s head, full force, out of sheer frustration. 

“YOU HAVE SHORT HAIR! There’s nothing to hold, dimwit! The guy wasn’t mommin’ you, he was searching for excuses to stay with you!”

Osamu would usually flail, bawl and fight back =with another unidentified flying object but he doesn’t. Instead he blinks owlishly, frozen where he's sitting, Atsumu’s discarded shirt fallen in his lap in a heap. He was quite drunk not so long ago after all — and he’s always been the oblivious type. But it seems like his brother is finally connecting the dots slowly.

“Ya think?”

“‘Samu you’re an idiot!” Atsumu is pissed, but he tries to keep it down, both because of the late hour and because it’s infuriating to realize he’s not just mad at his brother. “He was trying to take care of you too, heaven only knows fuckin' why.”

“But _you_ always force me to drink water when we get drunk, you’re momming me all the time and yer my—”

“It’s what you _do_ when you _care_ for someone. A massive asshole like you wouldn’t understand, right? But it’s not just when you’re family, okay?”

“Oh… so little ‘Tsumu cares for me?” Osamu grins like a madman, reclining again across the couch.

Atsumu turns on his heel, rolling his eyes. That's it, he's not dealing with an oblivious idiot tonight.

“F’ck off ‘Samu! Keep feeling miserable because of your self-cock block and don’t involve me in your mess.”

He’s about to close the door behind him, but Osamu won’t let go.

“It’s okay if I ruined my chances with him, now that I know my sweet big brother cares for me,” he drawls, obviously thrilled to have found something to cheer himself up.

And to hell if it's at Atsumu's expense. Atsumu isn't in the mood to let him have it, though.

“Hold up! When I do it for you, it’s only because I can’t fuckin’ stand you when you’re drunk on top of bein’ your usual—”

“You care for me, admit it,” Osamu taunts proudly, getting up and bouncing toward the bathroom like a kid.

Drunken Osamu is the worst Osamu. Then, he can't tame his true nature down.

“I’ll gut you in your sleep,” Atsumu threatens, eyes narrowing, stiffening a little more with each step his twin takes toward him.

He goes to slam the door but Osamu stops it dead in its tracks. 

“You’re alone too,” he deadpans.

There’s no mockery in there, and he could just be stating the obvious, but Atsumu is defiant enough to feel his fist clench at his side. But the moment he realizes how ridiculously riled up he is, he feels his face heat up and he slouches a little.

Shit... Osamu figured him out ten minutes ago but held back until now, didn't he? It's so obvious suddenly, Atsumu feels like a total idiot.

The production assistant runs a hand over his face, breathing out long and deep. What a fucking mess.

“Had to hold someone’s hair,” Atsumu eventually mumbles for a lack of better explanation.

Osamu makes himself comfortable against the door frame, crossing his arms as he tilts his head to the side.

“But ya didn’t bring them home?”

“I—ugh. Go to sleep, ‘Samu.”

The tone isn’t biting. Atsumu sounds as defeated as he feels. He can’t face tonight’s mess now, not with his brother seeing right through him. And mostly, he can’t face the mess that’s to come. Months of a complete mess.

“Are you alright?”

For the first time since Atsumu came home, there’s not even a faint trace of banter there. Osamu sounds dead serious, like he always does at the most unexpected time when he reads Atsumu a little too well.

_You care for me, admit it._

They both care for each other in their own ways.

Atsumu feels even weaker as he looks up, even more tired.

“Don’t think I am,” he answers, pushing his brother back gently.

Osamu backs off without a protest, a sign he gets how serious it is.

“But, hey! At least I don’t have to smile for the cameras, right?” Atsumu sounds hollow as he throws the joke around.

It’s not that bad, anyway, he lies to himself. There’s no alcohol to blame for the chaos in his head. There’s nothing but the realization that no matter how conflicted he feels or what happens after tonight, Sakusa Kiyoomi is a mystery he’s weirdly set on solving.

Osamu finally steps back, but he doesn't sound any less serious when he speaks up again.

"Ye, right, well. I know everything's for the stupid movie and your huge fuckin' ego can still somehow forget yourself when it's convenient for ya but 'Tsumu... if you're gonna hold people's hair while they make a mess, you better find somethin' in it for ya."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Lyrics translation: I dream about you, I can try, can try to save you twice tonight.  
> Guilty desire, indissoluble in the night, we torture each other in a common agreement.  
> And like the others, I try and search for some drama, push back the limits and it's not so bad.  
> Show me our problems, don't tell me you love me,  
> Why did you even call me, you know it's not easy to speak for me,  
> I had too much to say, so I hung up anyway.  
> I'm lost and I don't know, but I'm scared you could go and never come back. So tell me why, tell me why I'm so cold, please.)
> 
> Thank you so much for the encouragements and support, you make me so happy, I don't have words ♥


	6. My pride, your prejudices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter cw: blood (it's fake cinema blood, and it's a few words short, related to the description of a scene)

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴 𝟻. - 𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝙼𝚂𝙱𝚈 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙳𝚄𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝚃𝙴𝙼𝙿𝙾𝚁𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙸𝙲𝙴 - 𝙳𝙰𝚈

“Kita-san is about to deliver his opening speech, drop everything and join—”

“‘Samu’s not done, I’m helpin’ him,” Atsumu answers the phone that’s stuck between his ear and his shoulder.

“Then tell Osamu to drop his stuff too, you can finish it all after the camera starts rolling. Why are you up there anyway?” Inunaki asks.

Well, that's a good point and Atsumu doesn't want to address it.

“I’ll get ‘Samu and Aran. Be there in five.”

Atsumu hangs up the call and lets his phone fall over the stack of printed callsheets he’s holding. There’s no reason as to why he’s in the studios’ offices allocated to their production in this fine morning. He’s not hiding whatsoever, why would he be? The production assistant arrived early this morning to help his brother and Aran, — the twin’s best friend and designated craft service worker, — so everything would be ready by the time the shooting starts and it’s not his fault it took so much time that he was late to print the crew documents afterwards. If he did anything to delay his arrival on set, he was subtle.

“You’re plain obvious,” Osamu comments the moment Atsumu tells him they’re late for Kita’s speech.

“Shut yer trap,” Atsumu mumbles as Aran strategically slots himself in between them in the elevator.

“Aran, did ya bring what we talked about?” Osamu asks.

Atsumu looks sideways, holding the stack of papers closer to his chest. Their friend rummages inside his messenger bag.

“Did too. Almost missed it. Newsstand was robbed man,” Aran explains as he finally extracts a rolled magazine. 

He drops it on top of Atsumu’s pile without preambule, making the production assistant yelp while he struggles to prevent it from slipping on the floor.

The magazine opens under his nose, front page splayed right there, the tabloid’s name in bold white letters and…

“Hell no! What are you even thinkin’!” 

Atsumu wriggles some more, this time to let the magazine flop at their feet. Sakusa’s picture barely has the time to blink before the glassy cover slips out of view. Aran is too fast and catches it before it touches the ground but Atsumu’s attention is focused on his brother, glaring at him evily.

“Ya always say ya like to know everything about your precious talents but won’t do your homeworks for Sakusa.”

“Get that trash zine away from me! We’re headin’ on set, why would you show that stupid thing around?” Atsumu nags him fiercely.

Osamu shrugs, unimpressed.

“Dunno but I know that’s not why you’re pissed. Aran agrees with me.”

“Aran’s not there. Please leave a message,” Aran sighs, eyes on the ceilling.

He places the magazine back in his bag.

“You bought gutter press shit for ‘im, you’re very much here,” Atsumu points out, betrayal clear in his voice.

He _tried_ not to complain too much to Osamu yesterday, he really tried. But after waking up from that awful night, he could hardly shut up. He _tried_ to tone it down while the twins were helping Aran with the last errands for craft service but it was an ordeal.

“Maybe I wouldn’t buy that trash if you weren’t obsessing over—”

“That’s going too far! I’m not obsessed! Aran don't side with 'im!”

“Nah ya clearly _aren’t,_ that’s why you’re stuck on a Sakusa-is-awful loop.”

“ _‘Samu_.”

Osamu shrugs again.

“Just sayin’ that maybe if you’re gonna talk about ‘im so much, you could actually dig around a little. Guy’s an ass but he’s going through it,” his twin explains. 

Not for the first time. Atsumu punches the elevator’s control panel so the doors open faster when they reach the studio floor and he can storm outside.

They’ve had this conversation at least a demi-dozen of times by now. Osamu insists that Atsumu can’t be that mad Sakusa is such a bastard to him considering his personality and up until yesterday, the production assistant was certain he was just saying that to piss him off… But Aran came in.

Aran isn’t biased like Osamu. And Aran immediately sided with his twin nonetheless, telling him to cut the actor some slack, that he got through a few nasty headlines over his recently earned popularity and that it’s all very tough on him.

Atsumu tried to explain that it’s not an excuse enough, that what Sakusa told Atsumu was profoundly unfair and that he can’t be such a brat when literally everyone wants a piece of him at the moment.

“Including you, right?” Osamu had the nerves to ask after they got back from their errands.

Atsumu put a stop to the conversation when he headshot him with a bag of chips. Thought he had shaken the duo off his back too, but they’re visibly still pushing their Sakusa propaganda on him. A wonder why, considering Aran never met him and Osamu barely did. 

They’re both on his tail too as they reach the service door to the main studio. Aran’s calm voice is right behind Atsumu:

“You two have a few things in common. You’d understand better if you read—”

“I’m not reading that shit, Aran,” Atsumu hisses through gritted teeth, pushing through the door.

As if he could have anything in common with that pretentious jerk who has it all effortlessly.

Atsumu spent the previous day ruining his braincells over that, he’s not doing it again. They have more important things to do, starting with launching the whole operations. 

The crew is gathered in the middle of the studio. Everyone is there, standing in a lose circle in front of two men. Atsumu recognizes the back of everyone’s head as they approach. 

Meian and Kita are facing them, and the former gives him a slight nod when he recognizes the newcomers.

It prompts a few heads to turn around to look at the three of them, then even more when Suna whispers a _“hey!”_ at Osamu’s attention that is quite loud and noticeable.

 _Get a room,_ Atsumu thinks as he rushes past the massive group to join his boss. Sakusa is waiting only a few feet away, the cast members scheduled today standing the closest to Kita. His arms are crossed over his chest, his attention focused solely on the director. 

“That would be everyone, Kita-san,” Meian whispers toward his way.

Atsumu takes a step back not without deference to hide behind Meian’s form and gives Kita the space he deserves, eyes scanning the crowd as the director solemnly starts his greetings. The production assistant feels his heart flutter when he takes it in.

It’s really _happening,_ after _months_ of work.

The day has come, and the biggest adventure is about to start. Something the PA overlooked after spending so much time in his head. He can’t help but smile widely, the nerves making him giddy and fidgeting with the stack of papers in his hands as he listens to Kita’s soothing voice. He’s thanking them all for their hardwork during preparation and for trusting him to lead them on this journey and Atsumu can’t help but take the praise terribly at heart after the deep investment he put in the project over the last months. 

Everyone is captivated by Kita’s words, he notices while detailing the familiar and new faces in front of him, until his eyes have scanned the whole group and come back in front of him.

Sakusa averts his gaze at the speed of light to focus on Kita again but their eyes meet for a split second. Atsumu’s smile gets suddenly stuck, losing its genuine twist. He considers the actor for a moment, recalling pretty vividly the last moments he spent with him before meeting him again today. Not even fourty-eight hours ago...

Sakusa drunk and scared. Sakusa angry and disoriented. Sakusa sad. But Sakusa pampered by the silly production assistant who sacrificied his only night out to keep him safe and bring him back to his five-stars suite. Five-stars suite where he’d spend the day being taken care of so he can be fresh on set when he gets to star in a big movie that will probably be screened worldwide in reknowned festivals for two years.

 _He’s going through it,_ Atsumu recalls the words as his gaze shifts to his brother who’s standing just next to Suna at the back of the crowd. Right, _as if._

“And I know we’re all aiming toward the same goal and that I can trust each and everyone of you. I’m looking forward to working with all of you. Thank you,” Kita ends his speech somewhere on Atsumu’s left and everyone bows down, answering at the same time:

“Thank you for your trust!” 

Atsumu does the same, and barely has the time to straighten back up that Meian’s large hand lands on his shoulder. Inunaki is already giving directions to the crew and everyone is moving while Adriah is taking the few actors to the dressing room to get ready for their first scene.

“You go around passing out the documentation then I want you on stand by around the glam team. Kageyama-san wasn’t supposed to start alone today, she might need help or more supplies and Aran needs to finish fixing craft before these monsters get hungry,” Meian explains, handing him a walkie-talkie. “Channel thirteen as usual.”

Atsumu grabs the device as he turns around to look at said _monsters,_ namely Suna, Bokuto, Hinata and Yukie, the key grip, gaffer and best boy and girl. They’re handling electrical and mechanics all day, heavy stuff too and they’re widely famous for wolfing down the craft supplies twice as fast as the rest of the crew reunited.

Atsumu would love to hang out around _that_ group, close to Kita too and seeing the set take shape… Not that he doesn’t appreciate Kageyama Miwa or Asahi Azumane, but the glam team navigates another part of the set preparation that isn't as interesting to him and—

“Mi-Miya-san,” a tiny voice reaches him through the mess in his brain and he looks down to find Yachi Hitoka, the continuity supervisor who’s currently hiding behind her blank reports. “Hi!”

“Hello Yacchan! Good to see you!” he offers the young lady a bright smile, handing her a callsheet while Meian walks away. “Heading to the dressing room?”

“Ye-yes! Actually if you could show me the way? I’ve never been in these studios, they’re kinda hu-huge…”

“Right on! Lemme hand these and I’ll take you there,” he promises, happy to see her smile in return.

Yachi is especially shy but it’s true the studios are gigantic. They’re spread over five giant warehouses and two higher buildings, not counting the facilities where the offices and catering are located nor the backstage area that Atsumu definitely wants to avoid but where he’ll have to lead her anyway.

She nods and Atsumu rushes to the task, not wanting to keep her waiting despite his own reluctance. It’s also the perfect occasion to be a pain in his twin’s ass and repay him for this morning by literally grabbing him by the neck to haul him away from Suna.

“Stop disrupting the crew, dickhead. Can’t ya see Suna’s a busy man?”

“He asked me to carry that cable, you fuckin’—”

“Come on, Suna! I’m very disappointed in ya!” Atsumu cuts his twin’s rant, pushing him away. “Can’t keep that guy around, he’ll trash the place and then the meal won’t be ready by noon…”

“The meal won’t be _what?”_ Yukie and Bokuto ask as one, peeping from behind two heavy projectors. 

“I know, right?” Atsumu laughs at the reaction.

“Alright,” Suna drawls with a slight grin. “Just wanted to know how he was doing after the other night. See you, Osamu.”

 _That_ Atsumu has the grace not to comment, because Osamu’s face seems to catch on literal fire anyway with how crimson he turns and his twin might deserve to be teased but not buried so far down in the ground.

Once they’re in the elevator, though, and despite Yachi standing behind them, Atsumu does drop a cooing:

“He wanted to know how you were dooooin’, _O-sa-mu!_ First name basis, uh?”

“If you brought Yacchan so you’d have a witness to dissuade me from murderin' ya, I’ve got news for ya,” Osamu hisses, shoulders hunched in a defensive stance.

“Please don’t fight,” she begs in a high-pitched voice.

“Don’t worry, Yacchan! ‘Samu’s melting right now, even if he aimed for my face, I wouldn’t feel a— _OOF!_ Shit ‘Samu!” Atsumu doubles over from the jab he receives in the flank.

Osamu has the guts to wink at Yachi as the elevator doors open.

“That’s your stop, scrub,” he says, pushing his twin out of the cubicle. “See you later, Yacchan! Call me if he gives you trouble.”

“F’ck’off!” Atsumu grits out, still recovering from the blow as he staggers out. “Didn’t feel a thing anyway. Ya weak!”

Yachi is giggling as she follows him in the corridor.

“You okay?” she asks with concern nonetheless, just as Atsumu passes the first door along the corridor and stops.

The hand clutched on his flank falls flat at his side, his stomach dropping a little. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. He cranes his neck to look back over his shoulder with a smile, ignoring the white plate on the door they had engraved just the week before.

“Sure thing. Are we doing this?” he asks.

She nods eagerly in response, her face lighting up with a blooming smile as she walks past the plate where Sakusa’s name is imprinted.

It’s day one, he can do this.

Atsumu’s heart does a sommersault every time they open a door, whether it’s when they get to the fitting room, where Asahi is dressing up Alisa Haiba or when they push Miwa’s door to find her bent over Shimizu, applying foundation while her assistant work on the actress’ hair. They’re the only two other talents lined up for today. The first scene they’re shooting is terribly simple. The protagonist receives an impromptu visit by his underground contact, a russian spy played by Haiba, to trade intel while Akiko, his lover, played by Shimizu, eavesdrops on them, recording the conversation unbeknownst to both of them. 

It’s a short scene, one of the two played in the entrance of the protagonist’s fictional apartment and they’ll stay there two consecutive days before moving to a bigger set.

The bigger one is located in one of the warehouses and Atsumu can’t wait to see the set decorators’ work. 

They agreed to start with two easy scenes as a warm up, to see how chemistry works between the actors, but then they’re taking a massive dive. The next set is the underground lair where Akiko’s organisation operates and where Sakusa’s character is supposed to have his initiation rite amongst other things. It’s a sick and twisted scene and Atsumu isn’t sure he’s ready to see the cast get so intense so fast. Especially Sakusa.

He’s going to nerd big time, and that’s not professional. Might keep Osamu at hand so he jabs him in the flank if needed.

“Sakusa-san! Hello, I’m Yachi Hitoka, I don’t know if you—”

“Of course I remember. It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”

Atsumu’s heart doesn’t do a sommersault this time, it right out _stops_ in his chest. That voice became familiar over the last week, yet Atsumu feels like he’s never heard it before.

It’s soft on the edges, smooth and the tone is as kind as genuine.

He steps away from the doorframe he was leaning against, bending forward and inside the room to see Sakusa enter the beauty room by the door connecting to his own dressing room. 

“Miya, close the door, it’s chilly outside,” Miwa calls him out when she spots him hanging in the entrance like a total idiot.

Every pair of eyes in the room settle on him, — even Shimizu’s in the mirror.

Atsumu has a hard time to register the words addressed to him. He’s staring back. Sakusa was _smiling_ just now. He was _genuinely_ smiling to Yachi. A beautiful, polite but not forced, smile.

Well, it could be forced, he’s a goddamn talented actor, but… Atsumu just knows it wasn’t. He can tell from the way the corner of his eyes wrinkled slightly and very briefly, as if he was caught off guard by Yachi. It’s—

“Miya, either you close the door or you take it, but _don’t stand there,_ it’s _chilly,”_ Miwa is as sharp as ever.

Never mean, but since he met her a few weeks ago, Atsumu identified a pattern that is very Kageyama-like. Her brother is the same. They’re sharp and to the point. And blunt as fuck.

Which is why he took a liking to her immediately. Atsumu loves blunt people.

Usually.

“I’d take it if I were you. Unless you’re here for a manu-pedi?” Sakusa asks, disdain barely contained.

The smile vanishes, a mere memory, probably a total hallucination even… He’s not even looking at Atsumu.

Miwa snorts and Atsumu kicks the door behind him, blood pressure raising dangerously. 

He’d give everything to bark back, but Yachi and Shimizu are right there and he simply can’t. 

“I’ll be on this floor until shooting starts,” he answers Miwa instead, ignoring Sakusa.

The actor doesn’t seem to mind, asking Yachi for a word in his room instead, related to some lines. Routine. She’ll come back after his visit to Asahi where he'll get dressed — _dressed_ being a big word, since he’s shirtless in the scene, his character having just stepped out of the shower — so she can take pictures for her continuity reports.

Routine is grounding. If they follow the steps, like they would with any actors, Atsumu can manage. Sakusa seems to have digested what happened two nights ago, or at least can pretend that he did in front of the others, and Atsumu can do just the same.

“Meian told me Terushima won’t start before tomorrow. Gonna be okay?” 

“Schedule conflict. It’ll be okay, he’s supposed to handle Sakusa-san but I can manage by myself today, he doesn’t need much. Adriah was already warned I might hold them a few minutes, though,” Miwa explains while dipping her brushes in a glossy texture that she then applies on Shimizu’s lips.

“Alright, well, I’ll be around. If ya need me, either use channel thirteen or yell.”

“I’m not a heathen like you Miya,” Miwa says without a hint of spite, making Shimizu chuckle softly.

“Actually Miya-san,” the actress asks, voice as soft as her expression in the mirror. “Would it be a lot of trouble to ask for a cup of tea, please?”

“Not at all! Anything you want!” the production assistant answers, turning away immediately.

“Don’t forget the—”

“Straw, I know Miwa-chan!”

“Don’t let him fool you, he’s a charmer and a clown but he’s pretty competent. Just tell me if he’s being an idiot though. I’ll take care of him.” 

Atsumu totally hears her tell Shimizu that since the make-up artist doesn’t bother waiting for him to be gone and he can’t help but smile.

Nothing wrong can happen.

“Maybe you could rehearse with Shimizu-san tonight? I think you’ve got this, Sakusa-san, but if you really doubt…” 

Yachi is standing in the doorway of the actor’s room, turning her back to the corridor Atsumu is walking along, steamy cup of tea secured in his hand. He’s as silent as possible but as his steps close in, she perceives him and looks his way in no time.

Her face is scrunched up in concentration but when she sees the production assistant, it lights up a little.

“Ah! Miya-san, could you come over a moment?”

“I don’t think it’s—” Sakusa starts just as Atsumu reaches his door.

He closes his mouth immediately, turning away to retreat inside the dressing room.

“Sakusa-san needs someone to go over his lines but I need to go and check on Haiba-san's outfit,” Yachi explains.

Atsumu’s stomach drops a little. Adriah is nowhere to be seen to help and it’s only natural that a PA would go over his lines with an actor if he needs it while he gets prepared. There’s literally no way to get around it, nor is there a reason. It’s not fair, it’s not professional to refuse.

“I’ll help, don’t worry. Off ya go,” he tells Yachi with a wink, handing her the cup of tea. “That’s for Shimizu-san on your way.”

Sakusa is all but smiling when Atsumu rasps his knuckles against the doorframe unnecessarily, clearing his throat. The actor is sitting in front of his makeup mirror, a black robe thrown over the pair of worn out dark ripped jeans that are supposed to be _hanging low on his hips_ during the scene, according to the script.

Well, fuck Atsumu’s life, he supposes. 

There’s nothing on the table in front of him but a glass of water, a few packs of tissues and wipes and a copy of the script. It’s obvious Sakusa didn’t personalize the room yet. If anything, it looks pristine and really impersonal, Atsumu thinks for a fleeting second.

“I don’t need help, we were done anyway,” the actor deadpans, not even looking in the mirror, although he’s very obviously bent over his script and highlighting a chunk of the text.

“Mean to tell me Yacchan’s a liar? That’s not cute,” Atsumu says, crossing his arms as he leans by the door.

Sakusa’s head snaps up at that and he glares at him over the back of his chair. Atsumu immediately raises both hands in reddition.

“Sorry. Listen, I’m not here to make fun of ya or whatever ya think I’m capable of. If ya need help, I’ll help.”

“What makes you think I need _your_ help?” Sakusa asks with the usual derogatory little tone he seems to be keeping only for a _few_ chosen ones.

“I _think_ I’m the next best thing. It’s just work, you’re really gonna push me away for ever?” Atsumu asks, trying to keep it low, trying not to sound like a prick already or they’ll ruin it in seconds.

“What if I do? What will you do then? _Fuckin’ call Higuchi-san?”_

Atsumu’s breath catches in his throat, his body stiffening all over.

“Ya remember that?” he asks before even thinking about it. “I—shit, look. I was never gonna… You weren’t cooperatin’, d’ya know how difficult it was to get ya there that night?”

“I don’t,” Sakusa’s answer flies fast and sharp. “I wasn’t cooperating for a reason Miya.”

“I—Yeah, thanks I saw that! And I’m not judgin’! But you tried to knock me out when I was tryin’ to help ya, so I guess I was—”

“I’m not asking for excuses,” Sakusa deadpans and he sounds frustrated.

“Well I’m not asking for an explanation, though I’d fucking deserve one. Would _love_ to know why you’d go and put yourself at risk like that. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry I threatened you when you were—”

“And I don’t want your fucking pity either, Miya. Close the fucking door and come over but if the next words out of your mouth are anything else than these lines, you can go all the way back.”

 _Prick,_ Atsumu thinks although his feet move on their own to trail toward the table Sakusa’s sitting at, closing the door behind him obediently.

He doesn’t want to feel like he’s lost, though, and he’s clearly not satisfied with the way things are handled. They could sit and talk about that night for an hour and Atsumu has a feeling they wouldn’t disentangle half the issues that were going on back there…

The moment he’s standing next to Sakusa, he refrains from smirking smugly and quickly reads aloud the first lines he sees on the paper.

 _“You need to prove this to yourself more than you need to prove yourself to me,”_ Atsumu recites without much intent, but then he tilts his head to look at the actor through the mirror and: “Just so you know, I mean it when I say I regret what I did when you weren’t in a position of defendin’ yourself.”

Two dark eyes narrow in the reflection.

“Miya, what the f—”

“You said the next words had to be these lines, never said what should _follow_ ,” Atsumu says with a confident shrug but he knows not to be too bold so his eyes drift back to the sheet and... “Wait. This isn’t today’s scene?”

“Aren’t you perceptive,” Sakusa slurs, but he seems gloomier, all of a sudden, shifting in his chair to get away from Atsumu.

The production assistant frowns.

“So… the problem aren’t the lines,” he presses on, because, yes, he _is_ perceptive, no matter what that ass meant by that.

Sakusa doesn’t confirm nor deny, looking purposefully away. Instead he says:

“It’s an intense scene. I just need some room and space to focus before I get it right. I was merely expressing my concerns to Yachi-san.”

Atsumu scans the sheet of paper on the table in front of him. 

The scene being _intense_ is almost an understatement. There’s no way around it, the fictional initiation rite his character has to go through is purely disgusting and staged for _massive_ effect. Sakusa has to bite into a fake horse’s heart for it. One filled with fake edible blood that’s supposed to turn the scene as messy and impactful as it gets. He has to do it while being held at gunpoint by a few menacing Yakuza assassins and being pressured by their peers.

Yeah, there’s definitely a list of _specifics_ that Atsumu can imagine are pretty tough to deal with, but he has no doubt an actor with Sakusa’s range can pull it off.

“Is there something troubling you in particular?” Atsumu asks cautiously, fingers playing with the corner of the script.

“You are,” Sakusa snatches the pages away.

Atsumu clicks his tongue, frustration raising once again.

“Nothing is troubling me, I just want to get the scene right. Now, if you could lay off—”

“Is this some kind of pride issues? Jesus Christ, no one’s doubtin’ ya or your skills! I told you I’m not judgin’ at all!” Atsumu argues, leaning into his space.

The chair’s legs rasp on the floor as Sakusa pushes himself away. Yes, maybe it's not the best way to compliment someone on their talent. Not in the least. So now Atsumu is both pissed off by Sakusa and himself, nicely done.

“You’re sourly mistaken if you think your opinion matters enough to me to fret over a scene, Miya.”

A flash of hurt crosses Atsumu’s face. The words are wounding. Sakusa’s chin is pointing so high, even sitting in his chair below him, he looks like he’s looking down on Atsumu.

“Oh. Did I brush some kind of pride issues?” Sakusa steals his words without a trace of humour in his voice.

Atsumu leans back, taking a step away from the table.

He gets that they didn’t hit it off the way they should or could have, and he gets that he has a difficult personality when he wants to. Still, he doesn’t deserve that. The more time that passes and the more the production assistant smells some kind of foul play, but he can’t get why it keeps happening. The little voice at the back of his head, the same one Atsumu associates to Osamu’s little rants about Sakusa _having it rough,_ tells him to press on, but the actor’s attitude is hostile, closed. 

Atsumu wants to ask what’s up with him, what game is he playing, if he’s playing anything at all, since he doesn’t even seem to be _enjoying_ himself… but then someone knocks on the door connecting to the beauty room and Miwa’s voice calls for Sakusa.

“Come in,” the actor answers immediately.

The door opens on the make-up artist, who Sakusa greets with a slight smile. This one looks a little strained, a little tired, but isn’t forced either, Atsumu realizes as the other man walks past him.

Sakusa ducks away from the make-up artist’s touch when she reaches for a strand of his hair, and it’s subtle but Atsumu knows it was calculated. She turns toward him for a short moment, as if just acknowledging the production assistant's presence.

“Ah, Miya! We’re all good here don’t worry. Could you tell Adriah I’ll have them all ready in twenty? Maybe less, actually. Would you look at this man’s skin? You need to tell me everything about your skincare routine, sir.”

She’s already focused on Sakusa only and Atsumu can only nod and back down, defeated.

Third time was supposed to be the charm…

But that’s not how real life works. He can’t just keep on pushing and pressing onto someone who decided he had a problem with him. Sakusa doesn’t trust him and Atsumu didn’t exactly do anything to earn it since they've met.

It’s starting to look more and more like a missed story than a thrilling tale.

“Shouldn’t you be marveling at your talent’s debuts?” Osamu asks, slamming a glass of water next to Atsumu’s laptop.

“Adriah’s on it.”

He barely mumbles the words, crossing a leg under himself on the bench as he scrolls through the document he just finished typing.

“Oh. Miya Atsumu the quitter! That's a new one!” 

Osamu takes a seat in front of him, sitting as unfittingly as his twin. Atsumu doesn’t look up but flips him off over the screen of his laptop.

“I’m just gonna give ‘im what he wants and that’s _space_ , ‘cause that’s what I do,” the production assistant tries to sing-song confidently, failing at feigning concentration over his work any longer.

“I know. I was jokin’. I mean it’s not like he needs _you._ As long as Adriah is around, there’s enough people to manage the cast.”

Osamu surprinsingly going Atsumu’s way has the merit to capture Atsumu’s attention.

He can’t help but squint suspiciously, though.

“You’re done settin’ lunch?” he asks, refusing to acknowledge what must be a fluke.

“I am. Inu-san changed the schedule around, ‘Tsumu. The cast and glam team are gonna eat first. In _five_ minutes.”

It’s lucky Atsumu is sitting, because the world seems to tip under him for a second. His eyes flick to the corner of his screen where the clock is. It’s almost noon. 

The production assistant spent all morning working from the catering area, as he usually does when he doesn’t have to be physically on set or in the dedicated offices. Only to keep an eye on his stupid twin, not because he enjoys his company, of course.

“Fuck,” he groans, moving to grab his stuff and leave.

“You’re not gonna leave, are ya? You eat somethin’ or I’ll deck ya ‘Tsumu, I mean it.”

“There’s somewhere—”

“There’s _nowhere_ you need to be during lunch break but keepin’ an eye on the cast and doing boring paperwork. Ya can do both from here,” Osamu grabs Atsumu’s laptop in between them at the same time his brother does. “What d’ya think you’re doin’, running away from him?”

The production assistant feels his face heat up.

“I’m not running away, I just think it’s better that—”

“It’s not better! Why the hell are ya actin’ like you’re twelve all of a sudden! You said it yourself, he needs _space_ , not to be treated like a fuckin’ diva. That’s precisely what ya want to avoid!”

Atsumu really wishes Osamu would stop reading him. Being a twin when you’re struggling has to be the least peaceful thing possible and he could really help the peace of mind right now.

“Well, he seems to think he’s one,” he lies to cut the conversation short, still pushing himself up.

“Does not. Have you seen the guy for real?” 

Osamu is losing patience, Atsumu can tell.

“I did! So guarded all the goddamn time, like he doesn’t have the time for you and your shit but actin’ all nice and big with the staff,” the production assistant groans, finally getting a hold of his laptop.

Osamu lets go, caught of guard, his expression morphing into a highly puzzled one.

“So the dude is quiet and polite, just engrossed in his work and that’s what gets you all riled up? You could literally be describin’ Shimizu-san right now, dumbass!”

“What?! She would never! Shimizu-san is kind and humble,” Atsumu immediately counters, on defensive mode.

Osamu opens his mouth a second, closes it again, visibly thinking. Then...

“Okay, tell me then. When has Sakusa ever been mean and pretentious?” 

“You mean when has he n—”

“ _Apart_ from when he’s with ya and you’re both acting like fuckin’ toddlers for whatever reason.”

Osamu’s words are sharp. To the point. Atsumu sucks in his breath. He can't answer that.

“ _Exactly_ ,” his twin hammers when no response comes.

But Atsumu refuses that. 

“What about his manager? You saw ‘im givin’ Higuchi-san a hard time too.”

But the thing is… the moment the words leave his mouth, Atsumu feels a wave of tiredness crash on him. The way Osamu looks back at him tells him just how much he’s fighting tooth and nail just to prove his brother wrong, and not because Atsumu wants to prove a valid point. 

“I saw his team is sure tryin’ to protect him. Now listen ‘Tsumu. He clearly is a jerk to you, and I don’t want ya to ruin your film experience for ‘im. He’s pretty but it’s not worthy. Still, I think if you’d just… look into it, maybe you’d be less angry and ease down a little—”

“You just said he’s not worthy,” Atsumu mumbles, fidgeting from the creeping heat that’s engulfing him.

“Nah, I said it’s not worthy to ruin your experience by being petty and biased. You don’t have to dive in gutter press but look ‘im up. Like you do with any talent usually. I swear it’ll hit home.”

His brother is back at sounding grave and serious and the little voice at the back of Atsumu’s head is making itself known again.

“Just spit it out then if there's anything up with him! ‘Samu! Ya can't spew that shit all the time and act all mysterious. What's so—”

“No. If I open my mouth again, yer gonna be biased anyway. Do your fucking job, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu stresses the words, clasping his hands dramatically. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I doubt that, dickhead.”

Somehow, Atsumu doesn’t doubt it so much, although he will never admit it aloud. But the doors open and suddenly the cafeteria is filled with conversations noises. Adriah and Alisa are laughing loudly, Shimizu and Sakusa walking behind, sharing a far more quiet discussion. Miwa is on the phone, her assistant too. 

“You go sit over there, I’ll bring ya a plate when I’m done servin’ them.”

There’s no room for discussion. Atsumu would look stupid if he was running outside now. Adriah would ask why he’s not staying. Actually, the moment the assistant director spots him, he waves at him with a big smile as he bee-lines for the catering table.

Atsumu raises his laptop in answer, shrugging sheepishly before he drops back in his seat, pretending to be working. He tries not to pay attention to the others, having decided that his ego was poked enough today not to suffer through a certain someone deliberately ignoring him.

Adamant on not letting it get to him, the production assistant takes out a pair of earphones, plugging them to his laptop to blast some Taylor Swift songs and immediately shuffles the playlist when he hears the familiar first notes of _I knew you were trouble,_ trying not to look in Sakusa’s direction. Goddamnit, even her? He can't trust anyone!

But Atsumu has more important business to deal with, anyway. It is related to the actor, but it’s work this time.

Only work. Atsumu is just going to handle the situation maturely, like he was supposed to do from the start. He’ll be the bigger one in this ugly story. He should have done that from the start, digging into the actor’s life, but he refrained at first to save the thrill of their meeting… and after their infortunate, disastrous first encounter, Atsumu just decided he wouldn’t look into Sakusa’s personal life because the man was irking him too much. Because he couldn’t even think about him without losing his shit at first.

Atsumu made it an obligation, though, to research the talents’ career, the events in their mundane life — and he always makes a point to not give credit to anything he reads in tabloids, but unfortunately it’s an inescapable step if he wants to get a grasp of who they are. There’s one rule he set for himself, and it’s to not pay attention to any headline related to the talents’ love lives. That never helps to learn how to know them, so Atsumu actually doesn’t really care.

That entire routine's purpose is solely designed to get to know the people the production assistant is supposed to work with closely. What they like, what they need… the way they behave in a private interview with one sole journalist and the way they do in the middle of a gigantic press conference full of press is telling. Atsumu analyzes everything over and over before they even get to the get-together party, for every new film. Just so he can give the best to the persons he’s supposed to assist.

Always, just like he’ll try and learn as much as he can on the crew members.

Because that’s what Atsumu does. He gets into people’s heads so he’ll be able to lay out the perfect set for them to walk on. It’s his purpose, his drive...

But all Atsumu’s got on Sakusa so far are that giant billboard ad, his mugshot on a casting sheet and a few disastrous interactions. During which neither of them shined.

He knows Sakusa can’t hold his liquor, he knows he doesn’t like his manager, doesn’t know why. Atsumu knows Sakusa doesn’t seem to be fond of physical contact. He knows that he’s a pure ball of raw talent. And that he has the most mezmerizing eyes.

Atsumu knows Sakusa has a beautiful smile, when he _does_ smile…

And that would be Atsumu's cue to stop day-dreaming and get to work because this isn’t _helping._

So he does open his browser, checking that no one is standing behind his back but they’re all taking a seat in front of him at other tables, one by one. No one can enter the cafeteria from behind where he’s sitting. Atsumu can safely do his homeworks and not look like a total creep — because let’s be real, someone who doesn’t know him could take it all wrong when seeing him dissect the actor's press compulsively.

So far, Atsumu right out _avoided_ any piece of news related to him, for a whole month. He was too busy anyway, even made sure not to come across him when he’d search his co-stars. 

The production assistant just waits for his twin to serve the last of the newcomers, Miwa, and then he types the words he had sworn not to write in the search bar.

_Sakusa Kiyoomi._

Simple, short enough, he’s typed them often while redacting contracts or e-mails, but this time, it feels a lot more personal. A lot more dangerous too. And it will have a lot more consequences, no matter the amount of money involved in the contracts or the impactful decisions on the actor’s life that were discussed in e-mails.

Atsumu refrains from looking up and above his screen. It takes a ridiculous amount of will not to. Then he presses the _enter_ button, just as a plate clatters in front of him and the shadow of his brother comes looming over him.

Atsumu would ordinarily look up, or he would look at the plate. He’d be distracted. But instead his eyes are glued to the screen in front of him. To the dozens of blue and black lines that appeared over the white page.

Osamu snaps his fingers at some point, close to Atsumu’s face.

But the production assistant can’t look up. Instead Atsumu’s hand moves mechanically on his mousepad to click on one of the links. 

“Oi. We need to talk,” Osamu mouths more than he _says,_ dropping in the seat in front of his twin brother.

Atsumu finally looks up, slowly. He knows he’s too stunned to react yet, he can’t help it. But seeing Osamu from up close, seeing him push his screen to try and close the laptop… it makes Atsumu react finally.

“Ya think?” he hears himself ask, pulling his laptop out of reach to push the screen open again. 

His eyes trail down to the big, bold letters splayed in front of him.

His throat dries a little but Atsumu reads the lines over and over. What the—

> Disbelief and betrayal on the main stage! Rising star and bachelor Sakusa Kiyoomi in troubling waters after secret meeting with LGBT icon and infamous heart-breaker Oikawa Tooru. How many skeletons will be pulled of out _that_ closet? Read our full investigation to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN!
> 
> I don't know if the plot thickens for you guys or if you're starting to get the big picture but we're going to enter a whole new shift in their dynamic after this chapter! Not much happened here, it was transitional, but it was super important for the events to come! We are getting SERIOUS™ and we can't stay ENEMIES all the way ahah
> 
> Regarding the cw in the front notes and the change of **RATING.** I was going to change it to **E** anyway later on since there will be explicit sex, but I will do it sooner because of the scene I mentioned in this chapter with the initiation rite. It'll be described from a PA's POV, so it won't be as gory and creepy as it would be if it wasn't staged, but still, fake blood fountain incoming so I'd rather make it clear beforehand.
> 
> Anyway keep in mind this is a stricly Sakusa x Atsumu pairing fic, I'm not involving either of them with anyone else during the events of the fic but THAT SAID! What do you think Oikawa is doing here? I've had a few people reaching out about Sakusa's deal and I'm super curious to know what do you think is up with him!!
> 
> See you super soon and happy holidays ! ♥


	7. The Devil wears Lavender.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter 7 was re-uploaded today after I made a terrible mistake when I was trying to set up my draft for chapter 8 and ended up deleting it. I'm terribly sad I lost all your beautiful reviews, but at least I could answer you all before the catastrophe so it's not all lost, but yeah...
> 
> My deepest apologies, I'm sorry really. Please dismiss this update and look out for tonight's REAL ONE with the upcoming chapter 8. I hope to see you there ;; 
> 
> Thank you so much [Matthew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trouvqille/) for helping me retrieving the complete definite file ♥ you're a gem and spared me so much work!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: The "referenced homophobia" tag makes its entrance in this chapter. Please be aware of that and be safe as the subject will now be adressed through Atsumu's inner thoughts.

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴 𝟼. - 𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝚁𝙴𝙰 - 𝙳𝙰𝚈

“As glad as I am you’re gonna downgrade to your less-idiotic state, it’s not what I want to talk about. Why dontcha help me fetch more water bottles before the rest of the crew gets here?” 

Osamu’s pointed look leaves no room for interpretation or outrage. They’re a few tables away from the actors but it’s pointless to risk being heard anyway.

Atsumu is on his feet in a blink, following his brother into the adjacent storage room. His mouth is already open, ready to fire what he’s been trying to process and word out over the last couple of minutes when he gets punched in the chest.

At least it’s the effect a pack of water bottles unceremoniously dropped in his arms has. Osamu is squinting at him over it.

“I said that’s not what I want to talk about. We don’t have time for that, people are gonna get in and Sakusa is gonna leave so pay attention.”

He looks serious enough for Atsumu to decide to listen but—

“He tried to refuse my plate,” Osamu deadpans.

Atsumu does a double take.

“You look sus' as fuck, ‘Samu, no wonder he did,” the production assistant says with a shrug.

“Fuck off and use your stupid brain. I said he tried to refuse the plate. I insisted for ‘im to get the food and he tried to bargain but gave up because Miwa was waitin’ and took it but he’s not _eating_ it. He hasn’t eaten anythin' since he got to their table.”

Atsumu frowns at that, not getting where his brother is going until…

“Ya know who gets drunk on three shots of alcohol?”

Well, anyone who’s never had a drink in their life, honestly, if you ask Atsumu, but in this precise context...

“People who don’t eat,” he breathes out, gaze lost in the void.

He remembers that night, he remembers wondering why a famous actor would ruin his night and try to ruin his entire life by getting drunk surrounded by strangers in a public club. He remembers him going there with a poor jacket in one of the coldest nights of the winter. 

Atsumu remembers Sakusa trying to sabotage his own audition. And then the article he just read pops into mind. 

“Watch out for ‘im,” Osamu goes on, hands landing on Atsumu’s shoulders to force him to turn around.

“Wait! No! That makes no sense! He’s… You’ve seen the guy, right? He’s—I think I pissed you off enough with how _hot_ he is. He goes to the gym, I’ve seen him half undressed, that’s not a guy who doesn’t eat.”

It’s true that some pieces of the puzzle are starting to fall into place, but some others don’t add up. Sakusa Kiyoomi is one giant mystery and the more Atsumu finds out, the more the mystery thickens instead of clearing. 

And Osamu’s deal with food was always serious. Really serious. He might be overreacting because of it.

What’s sure is that he’s now holding Atsumu back from returning to the cafeteria when he was trying to send him in a second ago and he sounds pretty frustrated:

“Explain that to me then! I’m just saying I’ll keep an eye on him. He’s going through it, okay? Maybe it’s not a habit, but maybe he’s really not doing great and you know things can go down fast. Maybe he's spiralling down or some serious shit.”

Atsumu’s insides churn at that. His brother has a point. He doesn't know to what extent Sakusa is willing to go, but maybe… 

"You think he's self-destructing or somethin'?" 

Somehow, as Atsumu gets the words out, a definitive weight settles on his stomach. 

It would add up. It would. 

"Let's keep an eye on him, 'kay' Tsumu?" 

"Yeah 'Samu. Let's do that. Now, get out so I can admit to that pack of bottles you're right without ya hearing it, will ya?" 

A joke to try and hide his growing discomfort. A joke to try and not focus on how much he's starting to worry. 

Atsumu should hate the guy's guts, he could. He has nothing but reasons to and they've piled up since they met. 

But the production assistant trusts his instincts, always, because if there's something that never fails him, it's that. And since he met the actor, when not pissed off from their awful meltdowns and stupid arguments… He's always felt like Sakusa was hiding behind a mask and that there was a lot more to him that he was willing to let on. Vulnerability. Cracks in the façade.

Two things come back to mind as Osamu flips his middle finger at him before leaving the room. 

Sakusa smiling _genuinely_ at Yachi and Sakusa _thanking_ him. 

That day, on the audition day. Sakusa thanked him, quietly, before storming out and shifting back to his awful act the next second. 

Fleeting moments and pieces that Atsumu finds as confusing as irritating. Why would he do that, if he's acting this way afterward? 

That _thank you_ suddenly almost feels intimate and Atsumu feels his face heat up. It happens often, when the actor is involved, but usually it's out of anger, because Atsumu is riled up. 

As he steps outside of the storage room, Atsumu takes a final decision. That long feature shooting isn't ending without him solving Sakusa's mystery. 

There's usually nothing that makes Atsumu go through with things like a movie would. If it's not his play, it's hard to get him invested. But as he sets the pack of water bottles on the ground next to the catering table and glares from afar at the ikayaki — left indeed untouched — in Sakusa's plate, he finds that suddenly he is decided to get even more invested in _this_ movie in particular. If he has to try and get along better with the actor, so be it, he'll give it his all.

Atsumu said it before, after all. Nothing will stop Atsumu from doing his job perfectly. Nothing. And if he feels like an idiot after lunch break while he gets into Sakusa’s dress room to leave the mandatory and usual basket of fruits _with the compliments of MSBY productions_ because it feels like violating the actor’s privacy, it’s his problem. And if he goes out of his way to personalize Sakusa’s basket and adds snacks he bought himself, it’s no one’s deal but his.

In the morning, Osamu barely has enough time to step out of the shower that Atsumu bounces on him. His brother came home late the night before and Atsumu had work over his head to organize the promotional photoshoot scheduled in the afternoon so he couldn’t really empty his bag, but now…

“Oh no. Get outta my way, dickhead. I can see you haven’t slept, and I'm not havin' your crazy shit,” Osamu warns, holding the towel around his waist tightly as he steps aside with a suspicious look.

“I slept!” Atsumu counters, following him like his own shadow. “Three hours. But I slept.”

“How many articles did ya end up readin’?” his twin asks, already sounding defeated.

Because of course, he knows Atsumu by heart.

“Too many to ever be comfortable when I say I don’t read the gutter press ever again,” the production assistant admits, hanging in the doorway of Osamu’s bedroom as his brother hides behind the panel of his open wardrobe to dress.

“You’ve never been zealous with your homework before.”

“Yeah well, that shit’s serious ‘Samu! Two big magazines dedicated columns to him three or four times since it happened in November and I can smell damage control from his PR team from miles away but I’m telling ya, they’re onto his ass. Not counting the many posts you can find on almost any gossip platform on the internet. Sakusa’s under severe scrutiny! I—”

_I feel like shit._

That’s what Atsumu considers saying for a second, after the way he acted with the actor over the last months. But it feels selfish, somehow, to bring the issue back to his own experience. And there’s also the fact that he spent the night struggling with very conflicted feelings. After all, they’ve exchanged pretty harsh words, Sakusa tried his best to show animosity at all times, and Atsumu knows he enabled some parts of it, but he tried to offer truces and his help a few times. Getting shut down each time wounded his pride deep enough for him not to be able to shake it off over night.

And if all that wasn’t messy enough, if it wasn’t enough to fry his brain again and again… Atsumu feels himself empathizing hard. Relating. That rumor doesn’t confirm Sakusa being gay at any point, but it doesn’t matter.

If there’s one thing you don’t get away with in this industry… it’s your homosexuality, whether it’s putative or some _set in stone_ truth. 

Atsumu hasn’t come out to anyone but his brother and a handful of people he trusts with his life. Around them, he’s unapologetically bisexual, because he refuses to be ashamed of his sexual orientation and couldn’t care less about what people think about him. But it’s not always as simple as just dismissing the general opinion. 

It’s great to be proud of who you are until it can cost you your career and everything you love and work hard for. Atsumu loathes that system, always trying to find ways to go around it, but it’s 2022 and he feels a little stuck as it is. Things progress slowly in this sense.

Not everyone can be like Oikawa Tooru, sitting on a solid reputation, assets and talent built over _years._ He’s been in the industry since he was a kid, has a terrible love-hate relationship with the media and when he came out during his twenty-fifth birthday party, it sure was at the center of every discussion but there wasn’t much the press could do to dethrone the _Great King_ anymore. A title he kept since his first big role in a historical movie when he was a teen and conquered the whole japanese scene on and out of screen with. 

Atsumu admires guys like him, guys who seem like they don’t fear for their life or career — because there’s no mistake here, they all fear the repercutions of an outing, they’re just braver about it than some others, or luckier — and who come out and make the issue less of… an issue, actually. But he also knows it’s not fair to ask other famous persons to be a spokesperson for his own fight. It takes a lot, and it’s risky. Really risky. Not just “ _making a few nasty headlines_ ” risky.

Atsumu wishes he wasn’t a nobody working behind the stage so he could change things. Meian told him it wouldn’t always be this way — because Meian is one of the few people he trusts with being himself and told the truth to — but the production assistant feels like things aren’t going fast enough, sometimes.

Some people don’t even consider coming out at all. Osamu is one of them.

Atsumu might tease him about Suna all he wants, he only does it when he knows they’re in a safe environment and because he knows Suna is responsive to his twin’s clownery-also-called-poor-flirting. Osamu is paradoxically one of the bravest people Atsumu knows, so it’s not always just a matter of being courageous.

“Judged him too fast?” Osamu suddenly says.

Or not so suddenly, Atsumu realizes as he snaps out of his trance. His brother is hanging by the door of his wardrobe to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He seems to be waiting, but doesn’t comment otherwise than that — meaning he knows it’s not the time to roast his brother.

“Maybe I should have been a little less of an ass is all I’m gonna concede.”

“Outstanding performance,” the bastard is back at it again, resuming the delicate enterprise of picking the right tee-shirt for today.

“Anyway, asshole. I’m gonna change the topic now. Because one pressing matter at the time,” Atsumu says, stepping inside the room to get comfortable on Osamu’s bed now that his twin's last struggle is to pick a sweatshirt.

It stuns him how Osamu is always taking so much time to dress when, unlike Atsumu, he doesn’t even care about what he looks like in the end. Or maybe he does these days? And maybe it's a key grip's fault? But that’s another _another_ pressing topic Atsumu wants to attend to _after_ they talk about himself first.

“I don’t think I’m gonna enjoy the next topic,” Osamu predicts, not far from the truth.

“Considering your bitchy unsupportive whining of the last days, nah ya won’t. I’m still gonna ask. How the hell can this man be gay?!”

Osamu turns on his heel at the speed of light, eyebrows so far up they disappear behind his bangs.

“Excuse me? Should I fuckin’ start calling you Miya “yeah I’m gay, yeah I’m homophobic we exist” Atsumu?”

“No! What the hell ‘Samu! That’s not what I meant and you know that!” the production assistant immediately protests, throwing an abandoned sock sitting on the bed at his brother.

Osamu dodges and grabs a sweatshirt as preemptive ammunition. Atsumu squints but goes on carefully:

“What I’m tryin’ to say is on which planet am I lucky enough for this man to be potentially gay!”

“Oh,” Osamu seems relieved suddenly, then stops to look into the thought.

He takes an insulting amount of time to reply too, throwing his hoodie at Atsumu when he’s done reflecting.

“I’m wondering that too! Although there’s no proof he’s actually gay. That nice meet-up with yer precious sexykawa doesn’t mean shit. But yeah, if you ask me, you probably have somethin’ _real_ nasty coming to counterbalance this unjustified good karma, don’t worry ‘Tsumu.”

“Don’t call him that, it's so fucking cringy!” Atsumu protests, ears turning red as he kneads the hoodie to hide his secondhand embarrassment.

“I’ll stop calling him that when you stop thirsting over Oikawa Tooru, and you’ve done that since you were sixteen and—”

“Shut the fuck up! You _swore,_ ‘Samu! If ya say _another_ word, you’re dead to me!”

“NOT MY FAULT I CAUGHT YOU STUCKING YER NASTY TONGUE OUT TO KISS A POSTER ‘TSUMU!”

Atsumu should have known he was going to say something terrible because Osamu happens to start running out of the room before he finishes his sentence, and he’s far gone when Atsumu dashes after him to throttle his darling twin brother.

“Atsumu, come to my office,” Meian requests into the earpiece of his walkie-talkie around noon.

The production assistant grabs his binder and excuses himself to Yachi before leaving the set. Everyone is moving for lunch anyway.

They’re done with the first set and scene so the main cast is free to go to the promotional photoshoot and the crew will move to the second, massive set for the rest of the day to install the lighting set-ups and dress the scenery. Atsumu isn’t supposed to loit around, Meian told him this morning he had a job for him today and it’s probably what he’ll be giving him now. He doesn’t know where he’ll have to run an errand, but he’s pretty excited about it. Tokyo is a big city he’s eager to visit, so going around it is actually fun.

However, it seems like Osamu never misses and Atsumu wishes he hadn’t talked about karma like this in the morning, because it comes back slapping him in the face way sooner than expected.

“You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” Meian asks after Atsumu has been staring into nothingness for too long. 

“No, sir! Just so we're clear, you need me to accompany the cast to the photoshoot and come back here with _what_?” he asks, voice a little hollow.

Meian’s glance on him is almost pitiful at this point.

“Nothing, Atsumu. You’re not sent to retrieve something for me, you’re sent to make sure the photoshoot goes according to plan and that the crew there follows Kita-san’s guideline. You’ll stand in as an artistic director of sorts, if you will. He trusted you with that after I told him you were the one who picked the casting shortlist. Says you’ve got a clear idea of what the material around the film is supposed to look like.”

Now, if Atsumu was caught staring vaguely at fairies _before,_ it’s probable he’s currently making his boss worry about being braindead. He can’t help it, the shock is too vast, the emotional rollercoaster too brutal.

First he learns that he has to go with Sakusa all afternoon long and now…

“Kita-san said _that_ about me?” 

Atsumu isn’t even ashamed his voice gets wrecked a few octaves too high, it’s the best day of his life, way before his never-happening wedding. No matter how hard he works his ass off, he never thinks about what it might earn him: responsibilities, trust, recognition… it’s always an overwhelming surprise.

Meian stops pitying him finally to bark a warm laugh instead. He walks around his desk to pat his assistant on the head.

“You did good, kid. Now hurry up and finish your job so you can go grab the talents. I’ll let you contact the chauffeur, you’ll be using the production’s van.”

“Yessir!” Atsumu beams a little sheepishly, still not entirely back from the shock.

“And don't forget to grab something to eat on your way out.”

“Ugh! What are ya? My stupid brother?”

“You’re wearing your stupid brother’s brand on your sweatshirt as a sign of protest against him?” Meian points out with a scoff.

Atsumu looks down at the light gray hoodie on which a little burgundy fox head is drawn on the chest. The logo of his brother’s restaurant chain and business.

It’s the hoodie Osamu threw at him this morning, and it smells like lavender because Osamu always leaves a ton of lavender essential oil in his stuff when they’re away from home. He says it calms his nerves and helps him deal with Atsumu, that big filthy liar. 

That’s not why Atsumu wears it, though. It would be silly and sentimental. This was a weapon a few hours ago.

“I wear it as a war trophy.”

“Out of my sight,” Meian laughs once more, shoo-ing him away.

Atsumu does run to the cafeteria to grab a sandwich, intending to loit around just a little to boast about what just happened to Osamu after this morning’s unforgivable embarrassment but he’s robbed of the occasion.

He has to ask Aran for his sandwich because his brother is too busy receiving compliments from Suna for yesterday’s ikayaki and _yeah, do tell me what’s on the menu today, I think I’m falling in love with your cooking, Osamu._

Honestly, if Osamu doesn’t make a move on the key grip by the time the mid-shooting party comes, Atsumu is locking them both in a toilet booth or something equally drastic. 

“I saw that too,” Aran whispers to Atsumu as he hands him his lunch, eyes locked on the cooing lovebirds.

“In front of my fuckin’ salad, that’s disgusting.”

“There’s no salad, it’s a sandwich, Atsumu,” Aran answers with his usual poised baritone voice.

“You must be fun at parties,” the production assistant tells his best friend for the millionth time since they met.

Aran smiles, just as usual.

“You’re in a good mood today, something happened?” he reads him easily, forcing Atsumu to look away from his twin who’s holding a sushi for Suna to bite in. _For real?_

“Oh! Yeah, yeah!” he answers to avoid having to pick up his jaw later. “Actually,” and this time he sounds smug. “I’ve got some great responsibilities dumped on me.”

“Yet you have no great power.” 

The fact that Aran always delivers these with a deadpan expression is even more brutal but Atsumu isn’t mad, he knows he’s joking.

“Well, you’re about to bite your tongue on this one, Aran-kun! Kita-san sends me supervisin’ the promotional photoshoot. So whatcha sayiiiin’ now?” 

Aran starts chuckling fondly, hidden behind his fist.

“Your brother is right. You really sound like you’re five when you’re excited. But I’m happy for you, man. Really.”

“Oh god, whatever. Ya guys always have to make it embarrassing,” Atsumu groans, turning away to hide his cheeks reddening from the praise.

“Sure thing, Peter. Now go save your uncle and the promotional photoshoot.”

“I only have one uncle. Last time I checked he wasn't called Ben and he’s an homophobic piece of shit. There’s no savin’ that man. But I’ll go and show ya who’s the… well I’m not the boss, but you get me.”

“Miya-san!”

Yachi’s voice calls him so Atsumu nudges his friend in the side and leaves him be.

“Told ya, you can call me Atsumu, Yacchan! Less confusing with my twin and everythin’,” he tells her with a bright smile.

“Sorry, Atsumu-san! I just heard you’re coming with us to the photoshoot. I wanted to let you know Sakusa-san and Shimizu-san are done eating. I’ll go with them to the dressing rooms now so they can change and we’ll be ready to go.”

“You’re a gem, Yacchan. I’ll get the van ready. You guys meet us in the underground garage. If you can’t find your way, ask Adriah or Inu-san.”

“Rodger MiyaaaAaAtsumu-san!” 

Atsumu feels like hugging her when her nose scrunches up at the almost misstep but he gives her a thumb’s up instead. She gets ready to leave when the production assistant gets suddenly possessed.

“Oh, Yacchan! How was the meal by the way? I know my brother is the best but he can’t know that, so I was wondering if Sakusa—Shimizu-san, if you guys had enjoyed your lunch!”

“Very!” Yachi eagerly answers with a big smile. “I think Sakusa-san left the sashimi to the side, though.”

Atsumu’s stomach drops drastically and he feels his heartbeat increase a little. 

“But he made up for it with the onigiri! Umeboshi flavored seems to be his favorite! You’d have seen him, he looked like a little kid eating it! I’ll go now, Atsumu-san,” she excuses herself.

“Did he, now?” Atsumu mumbles for himself.

His heartbeat is back under control. He can’t really picture Sakusa looking anything close to a genuinely enthusiastic kid, but that’s reassuring to hear. His eyes shift toward his brother, who's finally alone, and the production assistant walks by him on his way out, only whispering a:

“Want me to get yourself a nice poster of Suna to smooch? I won’t tell no one.”

“Whoever hunts this man down for me gets another round of onigiris!” Osamu _shouts_ in turn.

Atsumu sneaks out of the cafeteria as many chairs rattle on the floor and at least Bokuto, Yukie, Hinata and Suna get up as one, forks and chopsticks in hand.

Atsumu does his best to brace himself while he awaits in the parking garage but his palms still get sweaty when the staircase door opening echoes on the floor and the two talents and Yachi step out. 

For his own sanity, Atsumu decided not to stay around the set during the shooting of the first scene. First, it was out of spite, but then he had to see Sakusa two mornings in a row wearing only a silk robe over his bare chest and jeans hanging way below his v-muscle and it became more a matter of survival. A way of saving his last brain cells if you will. He’s a lot less efficient when the blood in his body fuels his boner instead of his brain and he can’t afford that just when Kita and Meian decided to trust him with bigger responsibilities.

Now the actor is clad in a black sweatshirt, hood pulled over his head and a regular pair of black jeans and Atsumu finds out clothes have nothing to do with how hot Sakusa Kiyoomi is right there and then, in an underground parking lot lit with awfully crude neon lights.

Palms are getting sweatier, and Atsumu gets disappointed, but not surprised by his own clownery.

“Good work this morning, everyone,” he tells them with the warmest possible smile, gaze only swiping over Sakusa for a second. “Hop in the back. We have a twenty minutes ride to the studio.”

Once again, Atsumu has to put extra work into not treating him differently than anyone else in public, and the joke is getting tiresome. He’s the joke, and he’s tired of himself. Especially now that he knows the actor needs a break with the shit storm he’s going through. 

The production assistant busies himself handing them each a paper cup full of hot drinks as they get in the vehicle one by one, Sakusa coming last. He’s the only one Atsumu had no idea what to order for, so he gets a dark coffee with sugar on the side.

Sakusa picks both with a nod, going for the sugar eagerly, and Atsumu wonders if the guy has a sweet tooth. 

Osamu was wrong, Sakusa doesn’t seem to have a problem with his diet, really. Not that Atsumu will ease off that easily, but if there’s a mystery to solve, the production assistant doesn’t think it’s there.

The ride is uneventful, Atsumu has to take a call, riding next to the chauffeur and turning his back to the others. 

He's the first one out to hold the door open, the moment they stop in front of the building. By chance there was no leak about them coming here today and the street is empty. They still lose no time and get inside the giant building at Mach speed. 

Atsumu gets excited again the moment they step in. That's a new, important task he's been given, and one that involves artistic decisions at that. Nothing could ruin today, especially with his resolve to try and get along with Sakusa a little better. 

"Everyone is here! Good afternoon!" a cheerful voice greets them from the entrance desk. 

Not the cute clerk waiting behind, but the man standing in front of it, who's waving a hand at them. 

Higuchi Reisi. 

A few weeks ago, Atsumu would have immediately waved back and answered as cheerfully, but his first reaction now goes to Sakusa. 

Instead of returning the manager's greeting right away, Atsumu's eyes drift fast toward the actor to study his reaction. Half of Sakusa's face is hidden behind his mask, but there's that telltale, almost imperceptible way his eyes wrinkle as he squints. 

Atsumu has really little time to analyze the — obviously negative — reaction, that another voice, even louder, comes from behind them. 

"Whole team's there, party's on!" 

"Tanaka-san! Higuchi-san! Pleasure to see you again," the production assistant finally answers. 

Somehow, it had slipped out of his mind that the talents' managers would be around on a day where their image is actually the main focus on stage. Silly him.

"Pleasure is all yours, Miya-san. I've heard you're treating our little protégés really well," Higuchi tells him as he walks toward them. 

"Team effort from MSBY Productions, no need to mention it." 

Atsumu looks at Sakusa's manager and can't help but wonder how he's personally dealt with that scandal. He can't imagine how difficult it was to make it die down. The stress him and his team have been under when the front window of your business gets smeared with dirt. And not because of Sakusa. It's not the actor's fault if the world is too goddamn thick to accept someone's sexual orientation, supposed or not. 

Still, Atsumu wonders how Higuchi reacted in particular. The two men always seemed at odds, although Higuchi seems to always try his best to lighten up the mood. 

Maybe Sakusa is angry at the world for what is happening to him and is taking it on his PR team the way he takes it out on Atsumu. That sucks. There's no way around that, but Atsumu can see where he's coming from, feeling constantly cornered. 

It shouldn't be a valid reason to refuse allies, if Atsumu thinks about it rationally. But sometimes, out of fear… You end up cornering yourself even more. Rationality goes down the drain and there's only fear and _loneliness_ left to sink in. 

"I'll head to the top floor with Sakusa-san and Shimizu-san so the glam team can get to work! We're a little behind schedule. We'll see you guys in the studio."

Atsumu has no idea what spurs him on to lie like this or take any initiative at all, but he just does before he can think about it and refrain. 

"Of course, we want them to be on their game today," Higuchi immediately agrees. 

"Actually I'll bring Shimizu-san myself. I need to have a short word with her beforehand, if that's okay. I apologize for the trouble," Tanaka explains, bowing immediately. 

Atsumu dismisses it with a light hand gesture. 

"No trouble at all. I understand! Yacchan, will you wait with them and escort Shimizu-san?" 

"Yes!" 

"Then it's all settled. Sakusa-san, this way, please," Atsumu immediately starts walking toward the furthest elevator, looking over his shoulder to see if the actor is tagging along. 

And he is. 

Sakusa gives a curt nod of acknowledgment to Higuchi then he's right on Atsumu's tail. 

The elevator is waiting for them so they step in immediately and the production assistant can't help but remember the past two times they've been in an elevator alone. 

It's like a Pavlovian reflex, his fingers start itching. 

_Ding!_

_Don't fight, don't get aggressive, don't start shit. In fact, don't open your mouth, Atsu—_

"We're not behind schedule," Sakusa mutters matter-of-factly the second Atsumu presses the button to their floor. 

It makes Atsumu startle and go entirely rigid. 

He did his best. He did his best, but Sakusa had to ruin it. 

Still, he'll be the bigger person. Atsumu's got this and no one will crush his resolve. Certainly not an overconfident jerk who's set on ruining his life. 

"Look, it's my job to run the clock and if I say we're behind schedule, then we are," Atsumu offers with his sweetest, most gentle and smarmy voice. 

It's passive aggressive as hell, but it's the best Atsumu can do not to lose his temper entirely. Sakusa should take the hint and work with him. Because this time, they might not make it out alive from that confined little space. At least that's something Atsumu can't promise. 

Sakusa doesn't look at the production assistant, eyes resolutely set on the elevator's doors instead, maybe to avoid conflict. But no, it's clear he's being a petty little bastard who isn't ready to give up on a good fight when he has the guts to mimic Atsumu. 

It's not the first time he choses that as a weapon, and it riles Atsumu up way too much. 

"Look. It's _my_ job to act, and if I say you don't deserve a fucking award for the blantant lie you served them, then you don't."

Atsumu's fingers really, really itch now. He punched someone this very morning, his own twin, it should be enough to get rid of any violent thought, and it's what might actually save him from grabbing the jerk by the collar now, but damn, it _itches._

"Still… thank you."

"Wanna say that again?" Atsumu barks heatedly… a few seconds too late. 

He's left blinking like an owl, frozen in place, as Sakusa's last words finally hit. 

"Ugh?! Come again?" 

The actor's sigh is downright exasperated by Atsumu’s vivid reaction but it’s not like he can contain his surprise with what Atsumu _thinks_ he just heard. 

“Do you really have to be this extra about it?" Sakusa's drags him.

"I just—I—What—" 

_Help._

"You did that to help, right? You think you did something?" Sakusa confronts him the moment Atsumu can't find his words. 

It's a wonder how Sakusa can be so prickly and pushy with Atsumu when he spends half his time hunched over trying to merge with the nearest wall. 

"Well, you did. Congratulations, I'm grateful. That still doesn't change a thing between us."

He spits the words through gritted teeth. Words that are supposed to be—

"Grateful?" Atsumu blurts out with that high-pitched ridiculous voice that takes him by surprise as much as the person it's addressed to did. 

Sakusa flashes him a glare, as if to challenge him to repeat that even _one_ more time. 

The actor should have learned, by now, that despite his best resolutions to be the bigger man, Atsumu is too easy to bait. His mistake.

The smug smirk, as horrifying as it is even to Atsumu right now — knowing the elevator could go up in flame because of it — is already curling on his lips. 

"Did I hear that correctly just now? Sakusa Kiyoomi is grateful? The Sakusa Kiyoomi, Kiyo—oh wait, Omi-kun—“

_Clack!_

It's merely the control panel that is hit by Sakusa's hand, but Atsumu still stops like he's the one who's been slapped. 

The elevator stops. 

Sakusa seems to have acted on an impulse because he shoves his hands back into his pockets immediately, hunching even more, the look on his face gloomier than ever. 

"Sorry, I went too f—" 

"I don't recall us getting all friendly, even less agreeing to pet names, Miya," Sakusa spits before Atsumu can go one with the apology.

The picture of an angry cat blinks in front of Atsumu's eyes and then he can't help it. He's so stunned by these mumbled, grumpy words… He just lets out a chuckle behind his hand. 

"That's not what pet names are. Pet names would be things like _darl—"_

"Don't you dare," Sakusa cuts him with the most murderous glare, finally looking at the production assistant. 

Atsumu's _darling_ dies on his lips. For the best. Darling doesn't fit, that bastard is way too aggressive, and blunt, and rude and hot. 

_No!_

Yes, he is. It's just not relevant. Atsumu needs out — of his own thoughts. 

"Anyway! That's a surname, Omi-kun. That's what people who get along do."

"Again, we don't—" 

Atsumu clicks his tongue obnoxiously on purpose to cover Sakusa's words. Now might be the right moment to make a move and set his plan in motion. Whatever the plan is, Atsumu will make it work. He'll piece things together and for that, he needs to… 

" _Get along_ Omi-kun. I didn't say getting _friendly,_ I said getting along."

With that, he reaches forward, careful not to touch Sakusa and presses the button to start the elevator again. 

"Whatever," the actor mumbles behind his mask. 

"I swear I'm not asking for more. I won't bother you either. You can even go on and be a prick to me, if you want to," Atsumu comments, seriously. 

_Ding!_

Sakusa does not move as the doors open, on the right floor this time. He studies Atsumu, his dark eyes as narrow as slits. 

"I told ya. Anything for my precious cast. If that's what you need nowadays, I'll give it to you. _I've got your back."_

Atsumu steps out first, not looking back. Third time's the charm, for once.

He could have said that as a taunt, to mock the actor. Actually, he tried his best to make it sound light and banter-y.

Yet, the thing is Atsumu couldn't be more serious. Now that Atsumu knows the animosity might not be entirely personal, if Sakusa doesn't have any outlet to scream at when he feels like the world is against him, Atsumu can be of help. He can help the actor deal with the struggle. 

He _wants_ to deal with it.

_I've got your back, Omi-kun._

Atsumu is scrolling through his twitter feed, slumped in a chair, when Higuchi drops next to him. Tanaka is chatting with Yachi and the photographer about the first round of pictures that will be taken. The studio is lively but not overcrowded so it’s peaceful enough for Atsumu not to be able to avoid anyone.

He doesn’t even know why he would avoid anyone, even less Sakusa’s manager. A charming man he only started to feel a little uneasy around after seeing the actor acting up with.

Actually, it might be the right occasion to learn more about the actor and try to sort out the messy puzzle the production assistant is stuck with.

“I wanted to thank you again for your hard work, Miya-san,” Higuchi easily initiates the conversation. “I hope he hasn’t been giving you anymore trouble since last time.”

“Last time?” Atsumu forgets about the many questions that crossed his mind as he straightens in his seat, confused.

“The party. Sakusa-kun told me about it, how you helped him get home that night. We’re really grateful,” Higuchi goes on with a light smile.

Atsumu is at a loss for words, staring at the manager, lips slightly parted while he processes the words.

He doesn’t really see Higuchi in front of him. All he sees, vivid and unpleasant, is the murderous glare Sakusa sent him that very night when Atsumu threatened to call his manager and that has been haunting his memory since then.

_Sakusa-kun told me about it._ In which alternative verse, _exactly,_ Atsumu wants to know.

“It was no trouble, Higuchi-san,” the production assistant eventually answers slowly. “It wasn’t anything big. Everyone got a little carried away. I would have too, had I been there sooner. Guilty!” he laughs it off, mind still reeling.

Higuchi chuckles softly, patting the armrest of his seat.

“I’m sure you would have. But thankfully, you didn’t. We’ve got a lot on our plate with him, so I appreciate the fact I found an ally with you. Keep a close eye on him, he really needs some supersition.”

_I don’t need to be under surveillance. I could be home, not babied. You couldn’t understand._

Just Higuchi’s presence and words, although coated with what is surely genuine care, are enough to _oppress_ Atsumu, so, yes. Maybe he starts to understand, if only a little, why a twenty-six years old man feels _babied_.

And there’s more. 

Atsumu does want to be someone’s ally. Sakusa’s. Logically, being Higuchi’s means they’re in the same team, he should be happy to hear these words exactly. Still, he can’t explain the spike of relief that bursts into his chest when Asahi opens the door of the studio to let the talents in and he can get away from the manager.

It’s unfortunate because with the rumors and everything Atsumu found out, there’s so much to unpack and Higuchi might be the man Atsumu needs to answer all his questions but it doesn’t feel right.

It feels like invading Sakusa’s privacy and Atsumu has no idea why he wants to protect the prick that much but it’s there. It’s been there since day one, and it makes itself more clear by the day.

“I’ll help him the best I can, sir,” Atsumu answers as he gets up, turning toward the newcomers.

It’s good he could answer before seeing them, though, because after that, there’s no forming a coherent sentence any longer.

There are three different photoshoots today. One with Shimizu and Sakusa in crisp, black high-fashion dress and suit, one with their most iconic outfits from the movie and one that reuses them with heavily accentuated make-up touches.

Atsumu finds out he can’t survive outfit number one and decides to text his twin about his will the second he gets the chance and his brain cells back.

Sakusa is standing right there, looking even taller and definitely as breath-taking as he was on that giant billboard the day Atsumu found out about his existence for the first time in a Yves Saint-Laurent black suit. The sole of his Louboutin dress boots as red as fresh blood and matching Shimizu’s high heels. 

There must be some water in this studio, right? Not bottles or anything like that. Preferably an entire bucket coming with ice. Atsumu needs that, _now_. And looking away from him, say at the actress for instance, isn’t that smart either. She’s wearing a dress from the same designer that reveals impossibly long legs in a way that probably had Tanaka blow a fuse…

The only thing that Atsumu registers is the fact that looking at her, as stunning as she is, isn’t so unbearable as it is to look at Sakusa. Still not gay, still very, very into men it seems. 

“They’re beautiful, I’m so moved,” he hears Yachi say from a corner.

“Amazing! _Fantastique!_ Stunning! Asahi-san, I might just die! _Oh mon dieu!”_ the Japanese photographer gasps half in fancy French.

Azumane bows lightly, a sheepish smile on his face battling with a proud expression. He designed all the movie’s outfits and picked the greatest pieces for what he couldn’t create himself. He’s truly the best at what he does and Atsumu wouldn’t be surprised if one day people stop gasping at an YSL dress on a red carpet and get crazy over the last Asahi signature instead.

Still, it’s pretty and everything, but it’s _lethal._

“Yeah, beautiful,” Atsumu breathes out when Yachi hovers around him a few seconds later, hands clasped in front of her as she repeats the words over and over in a mantra.

There’s no avoiding looking at _him._

Sakusa is beautiful.

Yet, depsite the magical setting, he seems uneasy, his expression grim, forcing a smile when being addressed to, but it’s so _on the nose_. That man is nowhere near his element under the lights and flashes that are heating up in anticipation, with a bunch of strangers fussing over them. 

He pulls off the suit perfectly, he does look handsome, but Atsumu can’t call him a natural and the production assistant wonders how he can be the only one to _see_ what's so painfully obvious when Higuchi brushes past him to rush toward his mentee with a bright grin, boasting about how superb he looks like this.

It’s easier not to listen to your dick when you realize just how much the man you’re fantasizing over seems to be facing an unfathomable ordeal. There’s no need for a stupid bucket of cold water — Sakusa’s hollow gaze is more than enough for Atsumu to deflate.

“Need this?” 

Atsumu went outside to get another call and some air. The studio is suffocating, the flashes crackling furiously, directions flying for talents to take and submit to. They make it look so easy, composed through it as if they weren’t a pair of dolls to move around for a team of people whose only goal is to get the most perfect picture today.

Everyone is cool, everyone is respectful, at least the environment isn’t toxic, but an hour goes by and no one offers neither Sakusa nor Shimizu some water when they’re dragged to change into their next outfit like pretty manikins.

Atsumu is hauled by the photographer and his assistant to discuss the moodboard of the next setting so he doesn’t have a chance to try and check on them and before he knows it, they’re back under the spotlight and busy giving their best.

Sakusa wears his character’s signature low-waist ripped jeans with a loose shirt tucked in, open on his chest, short sleeves falling just above the elbow. That’s a lot of skin showing, and passed the first shock, Atsumu finds himself unable to find it as appealing as he would if Sakusa didn’t look like he’s being dragged through hell and back when he thinks no one's looking. Unluckily for him, Atsumu is _constantly_ watching.

So when they announce they're taking the next make-up break, Atsumu goes outside and gets some air. Right in front of the Starbucks down the street.

He’s back in the studio now and Sakusa is considering the drink the production assistant just pushed in his face. It’s a sweet coffee-based hot drink Atsumu doesn’t even remember the name of because he drinks his coffee black and dry. But Sakusa took the sugar earlier a little too fast for him to forget.

“It’s not poisoned, it’s full of cream but I believe you’re doin' plenty of exercise today to drain that shit out of your system,” the production assistant explains.

Yachi, who's sitting next to Sakusa, giggles at that, a script on her knees.

He brought her some sparkly water, everyone got their thing. Sakusa gets one too. The actor finally grabs the cup and nods to show his gratitude. 

“You’re doing fine over here?” he asks the script supervisor when it’s clear it’s all he’s going to get from Sakusa.

“We are! Still working on this scene, Atsumu-san! Remember, from yester—”

“We’re doing super fine,” Sakusa interjects, looking up at the production assistant with a saccharin smile.

Oh, _that one_ definitely is forced. And it looks scary too. 

“Obviously. Yacchan I’m sorry to interrupt you guys, but I think we need Terushima-san now. They still have to get ready for the last set,” Atsumu tells her.

“Oh, I’ll go fetch him!” she says, hopping to her feet.

Atsumu startles, not expecting that. He _was_ about to go fetch the make-up artist and didn’t intend to stay alone with Sakusa. She’s out of the beauty room before neither men can gasp or scream to their heart’s content in protest. At least, it’s not suspicious. But it’s clearly not an optimal situation.

They’ve made a ton of progress today and Atsumu doesn’t want to ruin it by pushing his luck.

Besides, something tells him that the fact that Sakusa’s chest is completely exposed in this outrageously hot outfit is not going to help his case.

That’s why he should turn around and leave. But if it was anyone else than Sakusa, he would stay, and he wouldn’t be able to refrain from saying:

“This scene really is troublin’ you, isn’t it? Is there anything we can do to help?”

Atsumu makes a mental note of asking his brother to find a way to shut him up eternally. It’s very likely Osamu will be very creative when it comes to such a request. He’s not there to knock his teeth out, though, so the production assistant braces himself for the punch to the throat Sakusa is likely to deliver any second instead.

“Why do you smell like lavender?”

“I beg your pardon?” Atsumu blurts out, already gearing up and suddenly falling apart in front of that absurd question.

“You smell like lavender. I wasn’t sure in the elevator but you—it follows you everywhere,” Sakusa tells him, fidgeting with the corner of his own script.

Atsumu blinks a couple of times.

“I do? I guess I do... It’s my brother’s hoodie. It’s a—It’s a thing of his. Sprays that everywhere. Is it a bad thing?” the production assistant asks, pinching the sweatshirt to bring it to his nose and inhale.

Yes, the smell is faint to him since he’s been wearing it all day and Osamu's scent is so familiar anyway but it’s there, lingering. It appeases him instantly, because he’s a sentimental sap and that stupid hoodies smells like home.

“No,” Sakusa’s answer is curt. “Soothing.”

“Soothing?”

“It’s a soothing smell. Very common,” the actor immediately forces out, as if second-guessing himself.

Atsumu arches an eyebrow. Progress, they’ve made progress, he needs to be smart. 

“D’you need lavender for tomorrow’s scene?”

Atsumu did _not_ rise to the challenge.

To hide his embarrassment, the production assistant snatches the scenario Yachi left behind and looks at the descriptions a little too thoroughly for it not to be a complete admission of weakness. 

Sakusa doesn’t have to answer the clownery, at least, since they can hear footsteps outside and Atsumu is content with just melting from mortification under the actor’s intense gaze until the door opens to reveal Terushima and his assistant.

Sakusa is dragged in a chair in front of the huge make-up mirror and the make-up artist, boisterous as ever, occupies the space enough for Atsumu to sink back in his seat and disappear after they’ve exchanged a few words.

He appreciates Terushima a lot, but right now, Atsumu doesn't want to talk about how his dye job needs some touch-ups. He wants to focus on the scenario.

Lavender isn’t going to do shit to help Sakusa and the production assistant would love to understand what’s the problem with that particular scene since the filming is scheduled to start tomorrow.

“I’m gonna start with the glitter gel if that’s okay, Sakusa-san! I can’t move onto the eyes details if I don’t apply it first,” Terushima explains as Atsumu’s eyes fly over the script.

… 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚢. 𝙷𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍.

“Is this necessary?” Sakusa sounds clearly uncomfortable, Atsumu registers at the back of his mind.

Too uncomfortable for some stupid glitters.

𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚎, 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜. 𝙶𝚞𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍.   
𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛.

“Well, I think it is and it’s a little cold and slimy but it’ll dry off really fast. ‘Tsumu-kun, we do have to go for the black glitters right?”

Atsumu looks up just as he reads the words

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚎𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜, 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚋𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜.

“I just think it’s a little extra. That powder seems a lot more discreet—”

“I don’t think the key word for a promotional photoshoot is discreet, anyway, Sakusa-san,” Terushima cuts him with an unforgivable pat on the shoulder.

“Of course,” Sakusa doesn’t sound panicked, but close enough to make Atsumu feel uneasy.

And as Terushima closes in with the jar of unappealing gel, the actor seems to be trying to merge with his chair more and more. His gaze crosses Atsumu’s in the mirror.

𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚍𝚘. 𝙷𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙, 𝚞𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚔𝚒𝚔𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑.

“It’s not about the food,” Atsumu breathes out, jumping out of his seat.

Of course, it's not!

The ikayaki and sashami based dish aren't a food problem. Squid and raw fish... The gel... The fake blood...

"I love playing with that stuff! Look at that, brings me back to middle school when we'd play with that viscous glue to stick our fingers together. You did this too, Sakusa-san?"

“Yuji-kun! Sorry I was spacing out!" Atsumu stops him before the make-up artist can get his hand full of offensive fingers and slimy mixture nowhere near Sakusa's face. "Black indeed, but do go for the powder! They’re an underground mafia organisation, we want it to look organic, we want some dirt here, not your traditional Disney fantasy, y’know? Smudge that thing instead, looks more mineral.”

“Oh!” Terushima lips pop open as if he suddenly gets it and the idea is brilliant. “Of course!”

He winks at Atsumu but Atsumu ignores him. 

In the mirror, Sakusa looks like the production assistant just spared his life and, oh boy, he is not pleased about that in the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspiration for Sakusa's [suit](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a6/f4/69/a6f46934b7222643470d27fa961db50d.jpg) and [shoes](https://twitter.com/_mika60_/status/1341602903295967232) and Shimizu's [dress](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c9/74/1b/c9741be9d0d140ec5e9e4ccb424f6cb3.jpg) and [heels](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b1/a0/0d/b1a00d1641fc63f1bd6b8041fa95c3df.jpg)
> 
> I don't want to get deep in this because it is not the place but I want to explain that the depiction of homophobia throughout this fanfic, specifically in this industry, is based on my own experience as a genderfluid bisexual director and assistant director. And although Atsumu isn't a direct mirror to myself nor the plot is a reflection of my own story, the way I depict it and want to address it is obviously subjective and in correlation with my personal experience. I distanced myself enough with it but projecting on your work is a thing I'm very aware of, so I want to tell everyone that no portrayal of the traumas related to homophobia is the absolute truth, or is better than another, and your own feelings about it are as valid as mine, Atsumu's here or anyone else. Representations matter, and they're as diverse and multiple as we are. I'll try my best, here. Be safe out there ♥
> 
> And lastly, I don't know what happened in between this chapter and the last one but you've been many to join this journey and I'm forever thankful for the support.


	8. Color me curious, color me red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: fake blood, fake guns (all part of a movie scene, and described as such). Still, the fake blood is really really recurring and central to this chapter.

  
𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴 𝟽. - 𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝚆𝙸𝙽𝚂' 𝚂𝚄𝙸𝚃𝙴. - 𝙳𝙰𝚈

"Who are you texting? Is it ma? Can ya tell her—" 

"No."

Atsumu freezes in the doorway of his twins's bedroom, toothbrush hanging from his lips and eyebrows arching high at the blunt and flat rebuttal. 

Osamu is preparing the backpack sitting on the chair with one hand, the other glued to his phone. 

Atsumu leans in, gesturing with his toothbrush for his twin to stop being an ass and says: "Don't be stupid, I just need—" 

He stops moving again literally a millisecond away from getting knocked in the chin by Osamu's shoulder when he tries to shrug Astumu off. 

Before withdrawing, Atsumu doesn't have any trouble catching the name of the person Osamu is having a texts conversation with, for the simple reason that in lieu of said conversation, there's a giant blank. 

Osamu realizes that Atsumu saw and the way his entire body shifts into an offensive stance makes Atsumu turn away at the speed of light to retreat into the bathroom next door. 

"Is there a reason you're _not_ textin' Suna, you giant weirdo?" he asks, swirling to shut the door in his brother's face. 

It's like a little dance they perfected over time. 

"Shut up 'Tsumu!" Osamu snarls, fist banging on the panel once. 

Twice. 

Atsumu opens on the third attempt, right on cue, and ducks to the side to avoid colliding with his brother who becomes a victim of his own momentum. 

Osamu crashes into the towels standee, glaring. 

The deed is done, his phone is in his Atsumu's hands. 

Atsumu reclines against the sink with a proud smirk and hands back the device immediately. There's not much to spy on, after all.

The name is Suna's and the conversation has yet to start. 

"Be grateful I'm a good big brother and didn't press _send_ , but damn that's painful to watch." 

Osamu pounces on him in a flash, eyes gleaming furiously. 

"Ya know what's painful? A toothbrush stuck up your—"

Somehow, the spite dies mid sentence and Osamu shuts up altogether, even taking a step back. 

Atsumu is stunned enough not to comment on that and his twin is the one breaking the silence. 

"Damn right it's painful to watch but there's nothin' I can do about it so give me a break, dimwit." 

That said, Osamu storms out of the bathroom. Atsumu spits his mouthful of toothpaste and peeks outside the bathroom. 

"You sick or somethin'?" 

"I said cut me some—" 

"I heard ya, I'm not even making fun of your sorry ass right now. You really don't know what to text him? It's not that big of a deal, 'Samu. Let me be the dramatic one, please!" 

Osamu is standing in the middle of the common area of their suite, backpack hanging off his shoulder, expression gloomy. He's looking at his shoes instead of his brother. That's new. 

"I don't even know if I should be textin' him at all," he admits in a mumble. 

In all honesty, the urge to laugh at how grumpy Osamu looks is strong, but Atsumu knows not to kick a man when he's down. Most of the time, at least. And today, he feels merciful. 

"Dude, he gave you his number. You like him, right?" 

"He's cool, and then _what_ ," Osamu immediately replies, fast and defensive.

Atsumu grins. There's only so much mercy he can grant his precious little brother. He's about to tell him to stop being thick when Osamu, still really resolutely averting his gaze, mumbles:

"'nyway… didn't real' give it t'me."

"The fuck was that?" Atsumu blurts genuinely. 

Osamu looks so aggravated, Atsumu believes he deserves a little vibecheck. 

"Oi—" 

"I said he didn't give me his number. He just made a weird comment yesterday after lunch and it got me thinkin'," Osamu hisses, stomping his foot on the ground. 

Atsumu's eyes go wide. 

"What comment?" 

It looks like Osamu would rather die than let the conversation go on but at the same time it's obvious he needs help and can't help vomiting words. 

"He told me," he starts, then Osamu proceeds to bring his hands up to airquote the next words: " _You know my number is on the crew list, right? Just checking._ " 

At this point, Atsumu wants to physically beat some sense into his twin so he goes back to the bathroom. 

Better to style his hair than to become the only Miya heir. 

Still, because he didn't choose physical violence, it doesn't mean Atsumu will ease off Osamu's back. 

"You're literally livin' in a romcom and you can't even see it. My own brother. Yer a fuckin' disgrace, 'Samu."

"Ya really want to sit on that toothbrush that bad?" 

Osamu appears in the doorway, startling Atsumu while he's rummaging through the vanity who drops one of their pouches. 

"Back off, 'Samu! Not my fault you're so thick. He was so _not_ smooth, 't's actually a joke."

"Don't insult him," Osamu snarls while Atsumu tries to pick up the various items that rolled around when he jolted. 

A see-through brown bottle finishes its course against the tip of his fingers. 

Atsumu squints when he identifies it. 

"Whatever loverboy," he tells him absent-mindedly. "I can guarantee you, you can send the stupidest shit possible that guy's gonna answer anyway. Now go sit your ass and think about what to tell 'im while I finish my stuff."

"I'm not going with you, bastard," Osamu answers angrily from the next room. 

"Oh come on, don't go sulkin', ya ass!" 

Atsumu looks over the vanity door to check if Osamu is still there but he's alone in the bathroom. In fact when his brother speaks again, his voice comes from pretty far. 

"I'm not sulking. I have an early appointment for the restaurant I'm openin' downtown. Maybe you can decipher cryptic flirtin' but you're single as fuck and not runnin' a thriving business so ya shouldn't be running your mouth, 'Tsumu."

"You little shit—" 

"See ya!" 

The door of their suite bangs just like that and Atsumu is left there, jaw hanging low, fist curled around the little bottle. 

Long after he's pocketed the little item, the sting left by Osamu's words lingers. 

It's 8.20AM when Atsumu arrives in front of the talents' hotel to pick Shimizu up. He's 10 minutes early and when he stops in front of a door on her floor, it's not hers. 

It no longer stings but Atsumu is seriously wondering what the hell is he doing and why Osamu would be such an ass. 

He's single because he's too busy. Too busy working his ass off. Maybe Atsumu doesn't own a business but he can be thriving too. He works so hard and well that Meian trusts him to take care of everything. And everyone. 

That's precisely what Atsumu is currently doing. Taking good care of people. 

Like the day before when he came to pick her up and like he intends to do everyday until shooting is done, Atsumu is carrying a cup holder tray with a paper cup full of Shimizu's favorite Starbucks drink. But _unlike_ yesterday, and surely unlike the days to come, there's a second paper cup on the tray. 

Maybe he should give it to Yachi. Atsumu can still back down and wait for Shimizu in front of _her_ door with the extra drink. 

Except Atsumu knocks under the sign that shows _Suite 15_ in golden letters instead. 

If he was luckier, maybe Atsumu would have had the time to second-guess himself but the door swings open surprisingly fast.

“I already told you, I'm heading there alo— _Miya?_ ”

Atsumu startles, regardless of the fact that he should be expecting to see Sakusa, of all people, appear after deciding to knock on _his_ door.

His heart leaps in his throat, eyes locking with Sakusa’s. Eyes usually dark that are rimmed by a deep shadow today. Atsumu stares and immediately brings up one of the cups, averting his gaze.

Did Sakusa not sleep? They didn’t have the chance to speak at all the day before, but Atsumu thinks he gets just how disturbed Sakusa is with the scene coming today. He just would like to understand why exactly, so he could help…

In the meantime, though, Atsumu is holding the sweetest beverage he could order in the actor’s face.

“I know, I know. Didn’t mean to be pushy, I’ll head out with Shimizu-san. I just wanted to drop by to give you this,” Atsumu starts.

“I… No—” Sakusa stammers, sounding strained and extremely confused so Atsumu looks up over the cup. 

Atsumu feels so lame, that jerk is still nowhere near grateful and he probably is overstepping again. It’s worth letting Sakusa know he’s not here to harass him, though.

But in his eagerness, Atsumu speaks over him.

“I just wanted to wish you good luck for today. You don't have to drink it. It's full of sugar. I'm just gonna try ‘em all until I see yer eyes sparkle for a disgusting cinnamon Dolce Latte or some weird order I guess. Anyway have a— _wait_.”

Atsumu suddenly gasps as he chokes, shoulders shaking. His eyes drifted agains while he was ranting, but they focus back on Sakusa at the speed of light.

The words Atsumu ended up talking over, he just registers them now:

 _I took you for someone else,_ Sakusa said.

“Who do you think it was gonna be?” Atsumu asks, frowning.

There’s literally no one who’s supposed to show up here. Sakusa’s private chauffeur, hired from a private company, is waiting for him in the privacy of the underground garage. Atsumu is pretty sure Sakusa never engaged a word with said chauffeur and doesn’t want to, and that he wouldn’t speak so informally to him nor would he be expecting him at his door.

“No one,” Sakusa’s answer is instant. “Why did you say—is there _cinnamon_ in that?”

Now they both look quizzical and Atsumu wishes he had never knocked on that door. Why he had to over do it again is beyond him.

“There’s not. But with that face I’m clearly never orderin' that. Are you okay?” he can’t help to ask.

Atsumu knows that Sakusa isn’t but there’s no other way to voice his concerns if Atsumu doesn’t want to sound too intrusive.

“Yes, Miya. I am okay,” Sakusa says, sounding more exhausted than aggravated.

He does grab the cup, though.

Barely, with lingering suspicion when he uncaps it to look at the obscene amount of whipped cream Atsumu required as topping, but Sakusa keeps it and his gaze is right out defiant when he looks back at Atsumu.

A short but efficient glance at his posture tells Atsumu that Sakusa is entirely closed off to any further discussion and they’re already running out of time so he forgets half the things he couldn’t help but imagine saying while driving all the way here, then proceeds to blurt out:

"Kay. Then, I won’t hold you back.”

On Atsumu’s left, another door opens. Shimizu steps out of her suite at the end of the corridor, taking time to lock her door before turning toward them, yet Atsumu feels himself blush furiously for no valid reason.

It’s the worst. The worst! He’s never knocking on door number 15 ever again.

“Good luck again Omi-kun,” he rushes to say, turning on his heel halfway, to get away.

He’s fast, but not fast enough to miss Sakusa’s gloomy “I’ll see you there.”

That makes Atsumu stop in his tracks, stiffening while he looks over his shoulder in disbelief.

Again the confusion is very mutual. Sakusa snaps the door shut without further ado.

“Good morning, Atsumu-san,” Shimizu greets him with her delicate and soothing voice.

Atsumu isn’t sure he’d call it _good,_ but that morning sure is _something_.

The moment Atsumu steps in the giant studio they relocated in, it dawns on him just how much this morning is about to be something else. 

There are giant walls — decor sheets — built and erected all around to form the various sets. The place is swarming with life, crew already running all around to prepare for the last lighting adjustments. Inunaki is expertly conducting everyone, an eye on his watch, the other, attentive, on the prop department who are filling a few barrels with some ignitable paste.

Atsumu feels his veins thrumming with adrenaline.

Adriah gets in his path, preventing Atsumu from actually forgetting himself and starting to get over-excited. 

“Yo! I’m going to pick up Kiyoomi at the entrance of the studios. When we’re back they both have to go to Saeko with Kita-san. You’re gonna have to sub for me today, we have way too many extras and I’ll be running everywhere to keep them in check,” he explains in English.

Atsumu nods absentmindedly, eyes dancing around the place. He grins slightly, the way Atsumu always does when Adriah keeps calling their director by his surname and using honorifics when he refers to _everyone_ else by their given names. Seems like Kita inspires deference beyond borders and languages. Atsumu can relate to that, still…

 _Kiyoomi_. 

He wonders if the actor actually minds that Adriah calls him by his given name. 

“I’ll go meet Kita-san,” Shimizu says suddenly.

Atsumu turns around to look at her. She’s been smiling serenely all the way here, but it hits Atsumu just how much things are getting serious when he realizes how focused she is now. There’s no strain on her beautiful face, but she’s clearly taking in the place too, projecting…

He doesn’t even speak, just nods to let her know he heard, and Atsumu isn’t vexed when she abandons him without so much as looking back.

His heart flutters a little and Atsumu regrets that his brother isn’t there and Aran is stuck at the craft table so he can’t just explode like a kid about how exciting everything is turning to be.

Atsumu treads around the main set instead, realizing belatedly that his feet brought him toward the electrical department.

Suna is checking on the track of the camera dolly, eyes glued to his spirit level.

“Fancy seeing you here, Atsumu,” the key grip drawls.

“Yeah, save that for my brother.”

He has no qualms.

Suna’s almond eyes flash toward him, gaze sharp despite his soft smile.

“It’s true there’s no questioning who’s the most pleasant to the eye.”

“No, I’m flattered but ya just can’t flirt with the both of us, Sunarin,” Atsumu pretends to protest.

“And there’s no questioning who’s the dumbest too,” Suna deadpans, going back to his spirit level, testing the camera dolly on a few inches.

He bends to listen to the rattle of steering mechanisms but there seem to be none, seeing how pleased with himself he looks.

“Anyway, I know you like me and I just wanted to let you know I’m gonna be around all day today. Lucky ya, Sunarin!” 

“Oh, right. Adriah is busy with the army of extras? Today’s going to be a gigantic pain,” Suna drawls, finally looking up as he sits on the dolly platform. 

Atsumu rolls his eyes.

“It’s true," Suna insists. "They always get curious and try to touch stuff and I have two kilometers of cables running around this set. It’s dangerous and if any of them gets fried, I’ll be the one they blame.”

Well, put it that way, it does sound a little stressful. Atsumu would concede it, but he gets knocked in the chest by the clapperboard Suna smashes there. Atsumu blinks a few times, then looks at his friend whose grin is sly.

“But it’s cool. If you’re there, we’re not so understaffed. You’ll be slating,” Suna tells him.

“Joke’s on ya, I like being at the center of the attention,” Atsumu immediately answers.

Suna starts walking away, still as sly.

“I know that, but when we’re twenty takes in for one single shot, I can guarantee it’ll be hell. _Joke’s on ya,_ then. Thanks for the help, though,” the traitor says over his shoulder, waving at him.

Atsumu is adamant, it won’t be hell. There’s the thrill of standing on set and watching the film come together take after take, sure but…

There’s another advantage to be standing on set until the very last moment, today especially.

“Atsumu, over here!” Adriah calls from the entrance of the studio.

Atsumu turns fast, clapperboard pressed against his chest. 

Sakusa is standing next to the assistant director, scrutinizing the surroundings surgically. The circles under his eyes haven’t faded since they saw each other and Atsumu can already hear Miwa tell Sakusa to get some more sleep.

As if he needed someone else to fuss over him. 

That’s Atsumu’s privilege today. Or burden. But it’s definitely the advantage he’ll take from standing on stage with him take after take.

Atsumu will stick to him like a persistent but discreet shadow.

The three of them find Kita behind a giant decor sheet, discussing with Shimizu and Saeko already. Sakusa doesn’t really acknowledge Atsumu when they meet and barely greets the group they join.

It passes as concentration, just like for Shimizu, except Atsumu knows it’s something else entirely.

The area they’re gathered in isn’t a set per say. It’s the corner that the set decorator, Tanaka Saeko, allocated to her team and props. There are a few tables displaying the latters. One in particular shows off a multitude of fake guns that will be handed over to the actors posing as a crime syndicate.

Sakusa’s eyes are drilling holes in the surface of another table. Atsumu follows his gaze there instantly. It’s _not_ just concentration.

“Sakusa-san!” Saeko greets him cheerfully, waving a gloved hand at him. “I was about to leave Shimizu-san with Akiteru to handle the guns, but I have so many things to show you, come along!”

She gestures for him to step closer to the table he’s been observing since they turned around the corner of the decor sheet and Atsumu can’t help but slide on the floor to listen to the conversation.

Adriah gets in his way again. Kita and Shimizu are, indeed, busy with Tsukishima, the set dresser and Saeko’s partner, and Atsumu has no choice but to listen to his colleague.

“I’ll be on channel nine,” he explains to Atsumu while gesturing at the walkie talkie strapped to his belt. “I’ll take Kiyoomi and Kiyoko with me on my way to the beauty room.”

From the corner of his eyes, Atsumu can see Saeko pull a fake horse heart out of a tray and barely listens to Adriah at all. She explains it’s made of cooked apple drenched in wine and covered in edible fake blood. Even Atsumu can’t help but feel his stomach lurch at the sight. 

Sakusa, arms crossed, is staring at the fake heart, unreadable. 

He looks focused, so focused, that Atsumu might believe he entirely imagined everything — that maybe Sakusa has trouble with today’s scene for entire other reasons. 

“Kita-san, Saeko, I’m sorry we need to get going,” Adriah switches back to Japanese after adding on a few things Atsumu can’t focus on.

Sakusa is the last one to look back at the assistant director when they all agree, eyes lingering on the props he’ll have to deal with later.

Atsumu flips the clapperboard over and over in his hands. He could find an excuse to tag along, to go instead of Adriah, anything. But Sakusa seems so closed off. He just… 

“If you need anything, you can ask. Remember, you can ask any of us if you need _anything_.”

Atsumu freezes, eyes widening, when he realizes the words came out of his own mouth. No one is paying attention to him, though. No one but a single person, and that’s why Atsumu can’t relax.

Sakusa isn’t even looking at him, he was just walking by to follow the group, but Atsumu knows he heard him because of the tremor in his shoulders and the way his steady pace falters.

Atsumu looks away fast, treading back to the props table. The last thing he wants is for Sakusa to feel that he’s being pushy. But another thing Atsumu wants to avoid is for Sakusa to feel alone or let down. 

He just doesn’t know how to make him understand that. Because, as Atsumu looks at the very convincing fake hearts in the trays in front of him, he realizes he hasn’t seen a single person trying to really get in deep with Sakusa since the filming started. Since production started, actually.

Atsumu brings the mouthpiece of his walkie talkie to his face and shifts to the glam team channel.

“Hey everyone, Atsumu here! Talents are heading your way. Make sure you’re extra careful today, scene’s intense as hell, we want ‘em to feel all warm and comfy during preparation and in between takes, okay?”

The answer takes a few seconds to come but then Miwa’s voice raises in the air, both fond and teasing:

“That’s what I’ve been missing since our last gig together. That one voice on my shoulder simply reminding me how to do a good job. Only weird it comes from the devil himself.”

“Alright, everyone! Quiet for rehearsal!” Inunaki calls across the giant set.

“You can breathe, you know,” Suna whispers to Atsumu, which startles him.

They’re both standing behind the camera dolly — Suna ready to push it, Atsumu observing Adriah as he takes Sakusa’s robe off.

The actor’s outfit for this scene is as minimal as the two days before. He’s wearing the same dark ripped jeans, but the shirt supposed to cover him at the beginning of the scene was left behind since his character has been stripped off of it at this point. All around, Sakusa is — as usual — extremely sexy, but quite exposed. 

Shimizu, in contrast, is completely covered with a beautiful kimono. It’s one of the rare scenes in the movie where she’s dressed traditionally and the sight is breathtaking. Atsumu barely looks at her, though. Adriah is rushing toward him, Sakusa’s robe in hands.

“I’ll leave this with the water bottles I brought back. It’s a furnace over there, make sure they drink,” the assistant director tells him before going back to coordinate the extras.

Atsumu believes that easily. Akiteru and Saeko are moving out of the set after setting the different barrels on fire around Sakusa and the extras playing the mob. 

Since it’s rehearsal they bring a dummy for the horse heart that isn’t drenched in any liquid and leave it in front of Shimizu.

She’s supposed to bring it to Sakusa, who’s supposed to take it and bite into it while they have a nice little chat about loyalty and his life is threatened. No wonder the set is awfully, extra quiet. 

Atsumu cranes his neck to look over Suna as the grip takes place to push the dolly forward. Kita is giving his last directions and everyone holds their breath.

Sakusa remains perfectly focused, not a shadow on his face after going through makeup. He’s looking at Shimizu and waiting…

Everyone is waiting.

“Action!”

Atsumu immediately looks away. There’s literally nothing worse to break an actor’s concentration than to catch their eyes. His avid gaze trails to the video village but the monitors aren’t turned his way. It can’t be helped, Atsumu won’t be watching… but then Shimizu speaks up, and his breath catches in his throat.

It’s quiet but Suna hears it, seeing how he sends Atsumu a quizzical glance over his shoulder. Atsumu shrugs impatiently then closes his eyes to listen to the dialogue instead. 

This shot is supposed to last up until the moment Sakusa bites a mouthful into the prop. After the cut, they’ll move to the next shot that is a close-up of the whole scene. Atsumu doesn’t know how many times they’ll be doing it but he knows for a fact that Sakusa is going to bite his fair share of apple this whole morning.

What is sure is that they rehearse the shot and camera movement many times before moving on to the real thing, doing run-and-stops and rehearsals so they get everything right before actually going for the messy shot.

“And cut! That was really good,” Kita praises the talents as he walks over to the set for the sixth time. “I think we’re ready.”

Atsumu looks up again, both actors’ attention on their director. Saeko is standing by the set, gloves on, tray in hand and so are Terushima and Miwa with their arsenal. Miwa is wearing gloves, Terushima isn’t. 

Atsumu walks to Sakusa and Kita as the director adjusts his directions. He gives a short nod to the bystanders so they step in too.

Miwa reaches into her pouch and produces a small capsule.

“It’s exactly as we discussed last week, can we proceed with the actual effects?”

Inunaki waits for the makeup artists and Saeko to agree before he announces for everyone: “Shooting next time! Quiet please.”

"Shimizu-san, here," Saeko calls her, grabbing the first fake heart from the tray.

The thing is dripping and glistening a vicious red. Sakusa is looking at the prop even more intensely than his co-star is.

"It's filled with a few capsules similar to the one we're going to give Sakusa-san, so please be careful not to squeeze it while you hold it."

On cue, Miwa offers the one she's holding to Sakusa.

"This won't melt, you need to bite into it for the filling to flow, so you can keep it in your mouth during the scene," she explains.

Sakusa observes the little capsule that falls in his hand. Atsumu expects him to recoil or flinch but nothing comes.

"I have an entire bag of them, easily rinsable with water but be careful, the texture is gooey."

Yachi joins them at this precise moment, stepping in a little shyly.

"Excuse me... Is there no alternative? To store it anywhere else during the scene? Sakusa-san has quite a lot of dialogue and—"

"It's fine, Yachi-san. Remember the cork exercise," Sakusa tells her with a gentle smile. "I've done way worse than talking around a little capsule."

He doesn't look relaxed at all, but at least her presence seems to be something he appreciates. In fact, it's the first time Atsumu hears him really answer someone with a full formed sentence since they got here and he is out of his character.

"Right, of course," Yachi blushes a little.

To Atsumu's surprise, Sakusa demonstrates by placing the tiny object in his mouth, stucking in between his cheek and gum with no apparent sign of repulsion.

"I think the break you take each time in between the moment you grab the heart and the one you bite into it is a little too long. He has to convince her that he's ready and his mind is made up, without any hesitation," Kita speaks quietly to Sakusa. "On the other hand, Shimizu-san, I need you to take your time when you offer him the heart. It's a challenge, you're testing him. Searching for any sign that it's not the man he promised he was."

Kita's voice is soothing, clear, and his words are always to the point. Usually, hearing him give directions to any actor is an absolute lesson to Atsumu and he enjoys it fully.

Right now, he's only trying to decipher Sakusa's expression.

"Kiyoomi-san, your arms please," Terushima asks when the director is done.

And it's right there. It's the sign Atsumu has been waiting for. Sakusa sucks a breath in before turning toward the makeup artist who's rubbing some cream between his hands to warm it up.

"That will help us clean the mess faster in between takes. Just some kind of waterproofing agent that prevents that stuff from getting in your pores too much."

Sakusa doesn't answer, he doesn't say anything at all, only nods, and it's really easy to believe he's back at concentrating but Atsumu remembers the flash of distress he saw in the mirror just the day before. This time, he can't help Sakusa.

And it makes him feel awful.

Sadly, it's also what makes Atsumu piece things together a little more clearly.

It's over before he can think about it, Terushima being efficient and to the point, at least. 

Everyone goes back to their places, and Saeko is the last one who stays around Shimizu to hand her the heart at the last moment. Atsumu finds himself standing alone next to Sakusa, clapperboard in hands like he's done a few times in the past. 

It's not his task usually, but it's not the first time he has to slate and Atsumu doesn't need to focus on that task to get it right. 

From the corner of his eye he can see Nishinoya, the boom operator, grab his mic. 

"Quiet please, rolling!" Inunaki calls from the village video. 

Atsumu is facing the camera, Sakusa kneeling behind him. They haven't exchanged a single word yet. Atsumu's attempts haven't been answered.

He still takes a step back and pretends to fiddle with the slate so people around the set can't get a clear and direct view at his lips when they move to whisper:

"It's only some apple and overly sugary mix. Nothing worse than what I got ya this morning. Less carbs, even. And you've got this, rehearsal was ins—" 

“Speed!"

Atsumu stiffens, head whipping back up as he fiddles with the slate. He was trying to be funny, or reassuring… But all he hears is Sakusa's sharp intake of breath when Saeko leaves Shimizu with the fake heart. 

Atsumu swallows the lump in his throat. He's not used to being that empathic. Usually it’s quite the contrary, even. Atsumu is good at putting himself in someone else’s shoes to understand their mechanisms, but the way he breaks everything down leaves little room to actually feel around the rational facts. Which is a blessing because…

Everything Atsumu lets himself feel is always so vibrant and powerful.

“Scene 15A, take 1,” Atsumu says the moment the boom mic is hanging above his head.

“Mark!”

Sakusa inhales sharply behind him. Atsumu claps the board in a snap. He can’t look back, just leaves the frame immediately.

Adriah gestures for him to go over to the video village, showing Atsumu the basin and pack of water bottles ready for Sakusa in between takes.

Atsumu hopes they won’t have to use these too many times. They won’t get the shot in one take but if they could avoid doing it over and over, it would be less of an ordeal.

Kita’s _Action!_ gets everyone’s attention and a few seconds later, Shimizu speaks up. 

Her voice conquers the set but Atsumu can’t take his eyes off Sakusa.

The two men stationed right behind him move along the script, cocking fake guns aimed at his nape just as Shimizu circles a barrel to bring the heart to Sakusa’s face.

They exchange words Atsumu knows by heart over the crackling fire and the intensity of the whole scene steals Atsumu’s breath away.

There’s not a shadow on Sakusa’s face, not the slightest hint he’s been struggling, nothing at all for the simple reason that Sakusa is no longer there. 

Atsumu has always been in awe of the actors’ capacity to inhabit a character entirely, to disappear behind another identity. Some are more talented than others. Sakusa is just on another level.

That’s why when he takes the heart and holds Shimizu’s gaze before biting into it, Atsumu feels a surge of adrenaline. It resonates through his body, makes his knees go a little weak, his limbs feel oddly warm and his breath catches in his throat. 

“Cut!”

Atsumu snaps out of it, the director’s call breaking the spell. He’s stunned enough to move on autopilot over the set with the basin and the bottles but Atsumu gets there fast.

Saeko is there too, already grabbing the prop to free Sakusa who sags on his heels. Atsumu places the bowl under his nose immediately, busying himself with dropping the bottles on the floor. 

There's the distinctive sound of Sakusa spitting the mouthful of apple he took and Atsumu finally dares looking at the actor. 

His face is a terrifying mess. His whole upper body. 

His chin is dripping with fake blood, his lips shut in a thin line tainted as well… And the contrast is that stark because of Sakusa's carnation. 

He's white as a sheet. 

His hands and forearms are coated in the same viscous mix and his collarbones are dotted with fake blood splatters. 

Atsumu lets go of the bowl and fumbles for a bottle. 

Sakusa seems totally out of it. He was so intense a few minutes ago but now his gaze is unfocused. He seems to remember not to place his hands near his clothes somehow, because Sakusa rests his wrists against the rim of the basin but otherwise than that he seems gone. 

Atsumu almost curses while he tries to break the bottle lid and finally succeeds as Kita and the makeup artists reach them. 

Atsumu immediately grabs another bottle for Shimizu, remembering where he is. 

"That was _really_ good. Thank you," Kita starts. "We just realized that the lighting isn't optimal now that there is so much red in the frame so we've got a few adjustments to make before the next take. You two should clean up and take a break. The intention was perfectly on point, I deeply apologize for the inconvenience."

Shimizu smiles at Atsumu and thanks him before turning toward Miwa who's there with some wipes and a towel. 

Terushima seems to have been waiting for Kita to finish with his explanation before moving toward Sakusa and he has to stay put a little longer as the director goes to his lead actor. 

Sakusa finally seems to come around because he gets to his feet to listen to Kita, leaving the basin on the floor. 

"That was excellent, Sakusa-san. Thank you so much. I'm sure we can get it with the next one. Again, my apologies for the delay."

"No trouble," Sakusa answers, expression entirely closed. 

Terushima moves toward him with a towel, wipes packet and tube of cream tucked under his arm. 

"But I really need to walk around a little before properly cleaning up since we have time," Sakusa suddenly says, taking a step toward Kita. "My legs are numb from kneeling through the last takes. Guess I got into it a little too much. I'll be back shortly."

He doesn't wait for an answer, just snatches the towel off the makeup artist's hands. Atsumu can't help but gasp. Then Sakusa gives Kita a grave nod before turning away and fleeing. Just like that. 

Terushima is as stunned as Atsumu but Atsumu recollects faster. 

Numb legs? What kind of excuse is that, the production assistant wonders. 

Something doesn't add up and he needs to find a solution fast. 

"Oh, gross! Let's be cautious, Asahi-san is going to kill me if I get this on your beautiful kimono," Saeko sighs somewhere on Atsumu's left. 

Of course. 

"Yuuji-kun gimme your cleanser and cream. I'm afraid Sakusa-san might get some blood over the set so I'm just gonna check real quick? Better come prepared," Atsumu asks Terushima who opens his mouth in confusion. 

Kita's eyes, for some reason, are drilling holes in the side of Atsumu's head. 

Kita is observant, he knows the human kind so well. That's why he's such a good director and suddenly Atsumu wonders to which extent did he buy Sakusa's excuse. 

"Good idea, Atsumu," Kita is the one speaking next and that answers Atsumu's questions. "Terushima-san, I need to speak with you about the blood texture actually. Let's go over the prop table."

The director's gaze lingers on Atsumu as Terushima hands him a few cleansing supplies then he takes him away. 

Atsumu feels his stomach jump but doesn't lose another second. He bolts toward Miwa, asking for a pair of gloves and the moment she gives them some with a few instructions, he's storming off the main set. 

The studio is the size of a massive warehouse and a crew of forty people is roaming the place, not counting the actors and extras, yet Atsumu thinks it should be easy to find a half naked and covered in blood big man. Sakusa is nowhere to be seen though. At least, he's not walking around. Maybe he went outside to get some air but Sakusa left to the opposite side of the main studio entrance. 

The service door, Atsumu immediately thinks, heading toward that way. He zigzags between the electrical department and a few extras to get there but never reaches the door. 

A red flash catches his eyes on his way and Atsumu does a double take, stopping in his tracks. 

To his left, in between two giant dark flight cases, Sakusa is crouching, elbows resting on his knees, hands and forearms covered in drying fake blood, his head hanging low. 

The previously white towel is now covered in vivid pinkish-red blotches and put across the actor's knees, probably to protect his jeans. 

Atsumu feels his heart clench and although he's been searching for Sakusa, although all he wants to do is help… it suddenly feels like he caught him in such an intimate and vulnerable moment Atsumu should be ashamed. 

He immediately takes the resolution to leave if Sakusa doesn't clearly state it's okay for Atsumu to stay and grabs the gloves he took from Miwa to put them on. 

Atsumu looks around them but the area is secluded and apart from Bokuto or Suna, very little people are likely to walk by. 

Still, when Atsumu finally moves toward Sakusa, he grabs the flight case to his left and pushes it on its wheels to turn it around. It hides Sakusa with its length instead of its width now. The massive case is surprisingly easy to move too, meaning it's empty of projectors and no one is going to come and rummage in it. 

Of course, it alarms Sakusa who looks up with slight panic. Atsumu takes as an encouragement the fact that he sags again when he realizes it's only him, instead of trying to flee. 

So Atsumu takes his time, climbs on top of the flight case and sits there after dropping the cream, cleansing wipes and water bottle he brought with him. 

His legs are hanging far enough from Sakusa to give him space but Atsumu is close enough that he'll be heard if he keeps his voice low. 

Atsumu doesn't speak up right away, though. Instead he uncaps the bottle and pushes it toward the corner of the case, near Sakusa's face. 

Then he retrieves the clapperboard strapped to his waist and fiddles with it awkwardly, resting the slate in his lap. 

"I—uh… I…" 

Damn, this is stupid. He just has to offer the water and his help and go when Sakusa murders him with one of his signature glares. It's not that hard. 

But finding the right words isn't easy either. Especially with Sakusa. Gestures, on the contrary, seem to have helped their case more than once since they stopped jumping at each other's throats. 

Atsumu feels a little lame when he reaches in the pocket of his jeans but when his fingers close around the small brownish see-through bottle he took this morning in the bathroom cabinet, he gets a little more confident. 

Atsumu spins off the cap and, while looking around, dangles it near Sakusa's face. 

The lavender smell immediately fills the air between them. 

"Want some?" Atsumu mumbles, still looking away.

He can’t really believe he’s offering some lavender essential oil to a man who’s having a total meltdown but just when Atsumu thinks about pocketting back the bottle and leave, Sakusa lets go of a shaky exhale and answers:

“Where?”

That takes Atsumu off guard, makes him blink a couple of times but then Sakusa is looking at him and he seems completely drained so Atsumu shakes himself off.

“Uh… I guess on your clothes but... Wait, maybe—” Atsumu weights the words before asking: “Can I get closer?”

Sakusa holds his gaze for a few seconds, then he throws his head back with a sigh. His eyes flutter shut and he nods.

Atsumu hops off the flight case and lowers himself to the ground in front of Sakusa.

It’s a little weird to crouch in the cramped space, even weirder to approach Sakusa like a frightened animal… definitely odd to feel for him after just feeling… upset for so long.

Atsumu drops to his knees when Sakusa doesn’t move so he can reach the hem of the towel covering his knees, which he peels back without making contact with the arm dangling there. His eyes are glued to the actor’s face to look out for any reaction.

Sakusa opens his eyes again, head still thrown back but observing Atsumu. It’s a little unnerving to be scrutinized like that but Atsumu isn’t doing anything wrong.

He just touches the bottle to Sakusa’s jeans, over his right knee, letting the material soak with a few droplets of essential oil. The smell gets stronger immediately so Atsumu closes the bottle and tucks it back in his pocket.

Only then does he release the breath he was holding, sitting back on his heels.

Sakusa doesn’t say a thing, only closes his eyes again, inhaling deeply.

Atsumu knows they don’t have all the time in the world but he still gives him a few precious seconds before reaching over the top of the flight case for the supplies he brought with him.

“I actually said I’d make sure you don’t smear blood all over the set so they let me borrow some stuff and—well, we don’t have to! But you’re gonna have to get it off at some point and that’s gonna be—”

“Do it.”

Atsumu chokes on his spit, words strangled, when Sakusa’s eyes snap open and he blurts out the order.

Or more like the _request_ , Atsumu realizes immediately. Sakusa seems to be trying to hide his distress but his eyes are flying from Atsumu's gloved hands to where the main set is located.

“You know Yuuji-kun is not that bad,” Atsumu mumbles, confused as to why he sounds sheepish.

Sakusa sighs again, he really looks done. Mostly with his current state, Atsumu can tell.

“Terushima is not my main concern right now,” Sakusa explains, craning his neck to crack his neck.

“Okay but he didn’t seem like part of the solution either,” Atsumu eggs him on gently.

_“No shit.”_

“Oh.”

A small, tentative smile curves the corner of Atsumu’s mouth, but that can’t be helped. 

“That’s more like you, Omi-kun,” he says, trying not to let the grin bloom too wide.

Sakusa scowls.

“There ya go! Definitely back,” Atsumu goes on as he stares into Sakusa’s dark eyes, hand moving back to the towel to pull on it gently.

It gives in easily.

Sakusa mechanically holds his arms up to avoid rubbing them over his jeans.

“Can I touch you?” Atsumu asks, eyes trailing down along the actor’s face, then collarbones.

He kind of focused on Sakusa’s mental state too much up until now to really pay attention to his looks but Atsumu is facing a massive mess. Sakusa obviously roughly wiped himself off with the towel before Atsumu got here but his chin and chest are still colored with an aggressive red and his forearms are sticky in many places.

“Okay,” Sakusa agrees.

That’s when Atsumu’s walkie talkie suddenly produces a screeching sound that makes them both jump. Adriah’s voice follows:

“Atsumu for Adriah.”

Atsumu’s eyes go a little wide and he lifts a finger to ask Sakusa to stay quiet. An unnecessary precaution, but that seems to make the actor relax. He grabs the device to answer.

“Yeah? Atsumu speakin’.” 

“Cool! They decided to go with a multicam setup because the shot is too messy. Sakusa can pull it off in a few takes anyway, maybe in one, even, after we do a couple more rehearsals. They said you went after him so please bring him back to the beauty room when you find him so they can take care of the makeup while we prepare everything over here.”

Atsumu finds out about the weird weight on his shoulders just as it’s lifted. He can’t help but grin as he answers.

“Great! I think he went outside, might take a few. I’ll bring him over.”

“Thanks.”

The communication is over just like that and Atsumu can’t stop smiling. He even looks a little smug when his attention goes back to Sakusa.

“My, my. _He can pull it off in one take._ You’re the real deal, aren’t ya?” he teases as if Atsumu hadn’t been rendered speechless a few moments ago by Sakusa’s performance.

“And you’re a _lot_ to deal with,” Sakusa answers but when he briefly looks away, his lips twitch upward a fleeting instant. 

“I can shut up while I help ya,” Atsumu offers with a scoff and silently hoping Sakusa won’t take him up on the offer straight away.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” the actor simply says.

Atsumu’s heartbeat jumps.

“You’re right. I won’t deceive you like that,” he tries to sound smug but Atsumu is so careful when he reaches for Sakusa’s left wrist that the effect deflates.

It’s weird touching him through latex gloves, no matter how thin, but Atsumu notices immediately how Sakusa _doesn’t_ recoil from the touch, so he turns his arms around, exposing the crook of his wrist.

He tries not to stare, but it’s easy to catch himself doing it so Atsumu gets moving, toweling off the exceeding fake blood Sakusa left.

He can feel the stiffening of the muscles under his fingers, though. Atsumu looks up before reaching for the other arm and notices the very obvious tension in Sakusa’s shoulders.

He clears his throat.

“So. Since there’s no lurin' you with a false sense of security, I’ll do the talkin’ and you’ll do the whole thing where you tell me to shut up,” Atsumu says.

“Don’t feel obligated to,” Sakusa answers, but he slightly leans in instead of leaning away.

“Contractual obligations. I told you many freakin’ times already. I’m trying to do my job, Omi-kun. So… Let’s say I could really help you.”

Sakusa averts his gaze, his forearm flexing in Atsumu’s grasp. He’s not squirming but as Atsumu wipes a particularly long stripe of residual gooey mix, Sakusa gets tensed again.

Atsumu isn’t joking, despite the playful tone. He wants to help him because for as much they got on each other’s nerves, Atsumu knows already he didn’t enjoy seeing Sakusa like this and never will.

It makes him feel bolder. Makes him want to really try. Sakusa left him be this close, after all...

“You don’t have to answer,” Atsumu starts. ”I’m gonna make a few guesses to try and help in the future.”

Sakusa’s eyes dart back to him a little too fast. 

“I—” the words get stuck in his throat.

Atsumu’s face heats up furiously.

“Or I can also mind my fuckin’ bussiness, right! Yeah, I—sorry,” he blurts out at Mach speed.

“No!” Sakusa interjects immediately.

Atsumu tilts his head to the side, reaching for a cleansing wipe slowly. Sakusa waits for him to press the fresh material over his skin to go on, jaw visibly clenching.

“I’m… I’d rather focus on something while you do that,” he forces through gritted teeth.

“Which is why I can talk about somethin’ else!” Atsumu immediately offers.

He can’t even acknowledge the tremendous relief overflowing him, but he doesn’t want to overstep Sakusa’s boundaries now that they’ve made so much progress. 

And Atsumu simply doesn’t want to hurt him.

“It’s fine, Miya. Can you, _please,_ if you’re going to do it, can you please—”

Sakusa’s voice, once again, trails off. He’s stubbornly scowling at the wipe pressed against his wrist.

“On it,” Atsumu answers immediately, moving it across his skin gently. “So... I’m gonna take a few guesses and you’re gonna do whatever the hell you want to, actually.”

He explains the rules as he makes them. If he can busy Sakusa’s mind during the whole procedure, it will be enough. And if Atsumu learns a few things along the way, all the better.

When he checks on the actor, Sakusa nods curtly, eyes still glued to Atsumu’s hand on his forearm.

Atsumu keeps going slowly before bringing his other hand to Sakusa’s elbow to angle his arm differently. Sakusa swallows audibly. Atsumu searches for his gaze, doesn’t get it.

“Touch aversion,” he breathes out.

“How perceptive, again,” Sakusa almost spits, suddenly pulling back on his arm.

Atsumu’s jaw drops and he can’t help vomiting the next words:

“Hey, ass—wow, sorry.”

He shuts his mouth as fast as he opened it, both of them freezing in a tensed position. Atsumu’s fingers are curled around Sakusa’s wrists a little too tightly, holding him back last second, and Sakusa is curling his other hand in a tight wrist next to his own face.

Atsumu slaps himself across the face mentally and releases his hold on Sakusa’s wrist promptly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Don’t,” Sakusa cuts him off.

His fingers uncurl under Atsumu’s intent gaze, then he drops his hand back for good.

“No, c’m’on that was real dumb. I'm sorry and I’ll be gentle,” Atsumu says, exhaling slowly. “I’m… If you let me keep goin’, 'f course.”

“Yes, Miya. Go on.”

It’s Sakusa’s turn to exhale deep from his chest. He pushes his arm back under Atsumu’s nose and the production assistant grabs him precariously by the wrist.

“All good,” he reassures him, going back to work as gently as possible.

A few seconds fly by in a total and eerie silence until Atsumu has to get a new clean wipe. He runs it smoothly across Sakusa’s palm, holding his hand up, before finally muttering: 

“Anyway, I’ll have you know people actually call me that for _good_ reasons, so don’t get cocky.”

Sakusa huffs but he’s eyeing Atsumu’s movement with a mix of curiosity and wariness when Atsumu turns his hand around in his own.

He needs to redirect Sakusa’s attention. Atsumu clears his throat once more.

“So, touch aversion. But mostly with bare hands so I’m guessing it’s not just bein’ touched.”

As Atsumu has to bring yet another cleansing tissue out, the memory of Sakusa’s impersonal dressing room flashes back in his mind. The tissues and wipes there as sole _personal_ items… Atsumu gets in his head a little, almost muttering to himself when he speaks up again:

“Second guess is some kind of germaphobia.”

He realizes his mistake immediately when Sakusa makes a face and tenses up under his touch.

“Which we aren’t gonna discuss right now!” Atsumu blurts out.

Damnit! Why couldn’t he offer a few lame jokes instead or prying?

Sakusa’s jaw is still clenched, dark eyes nailed to the used wipes Atsumu leaves on the ground between Sakusa’s legs as he goes.

“Hey, how about you look at my face instead of that trash.”

 _That_ really catches Sakusa off guard because when he looks back, his eyes are wide and he looks genuinely surprised. But then he proceeds Atsumu’s words and a faint blush spreads across Sakusa’s cheeks.

 _Finally,_ the actor isn’t pale as a ghost anymore.

But now, he might be embarrassed and Atsumu isn’t aiming for that either so he doesn’t ease up.

“Don’t you dare think _these are the same,_ you ass,” he says, with no spite this time.

The teasing tone gets across but Atsumu isn’t quite ready for the chuckle that bubbles in Sakusa’s throat and timidly gets out there.

If Atsumu is not careful, it might be his turn to blush.

He hates that he gets so easily flustered, but somehow it’s always worse with Sakusa. That’s why Atsumu decides to capitalize on his ability to turn everything into drama.

“You really are a jerk!” Atsumu gasps. “I know I look good, ok? Maybe not as good as a stupid model but I’ve been told I’m stupidly hot,” he keeps whining.

Atsumu isn’t really helping his case because that gets Sakusa chuckling for good. It _is_ mocking, but clearly not mean.

Now Atsumu’s nape and the tip of his ears are on fire and he’s not sure he can pretend it’s part of the act, but Sakusa probably has other things on his mind to pay too much attention to that.

What is sure is that he no longer is compulsively stealing glances at Atsumu’s movements but Sakusa’s attention clearly is entirely focused on him because he stops laughing fast enough and locks eyes with Atsumu again. He’s not _comfortable_ yet, but the progress is astounding. 

“I’ve been told I was cut to dub Olaf in the Japanese version of _Frozen,”_ Sakusa suddenly deadpans, voice airy despite the lack of smile. “Some people are simply delusional and you shouldn't listen to them.”

Atsumu’s jaw drops for the second time, this time for entire other reasons and the time for him to process Sakusa’s _joke,_ he’s bursting into laughter.

He even drops the wipe he’s holding, which makes him refocus but when Atsumu does, the atmosphere clearly has shifted.

He feels a lot lighter, and hopes Sakusa does too.

“Damn, you’re actually funny. Makes you even more of an asshole, but with a sense of humor,” Atsumu comments as he retrieves one last wipe.

Sakusa doesn’t answer but Atsumu can feel under his touch just how much he has relaxed compared to when he first touched him.

He’s done a solid minute later and leans back to admire his handiwork. Sakusa is staring too, turning his arms to see the result. It’s not perfect, his nails are still dirty and the skin of his forearms is too red but it's better and Sakusa doesn't look like he wished he could tear his own arms off anymore.

But Atsumu remembers what Miwa said in a rush before he left so he leans over the flight case to retrieve the tube of cream.

“I can’t do anythin’ for your face. They need some special cleanser for that but… I’m supposed to rub that into your cleaned skin so it doesn’t get mad dry before I bring you back.”

As Atsumu explains, he opens the tube and pours some cream over his palm. 

Sakusa stiffens minutely, but Atsumu doesn’t miss it.

“Do it,” Sakusa tells him again, holding out his arms reluctantly.

Atsumu grabs the right one, eyeing Sakusa’s reaction as his hand hovers over the actor’s skin.

It’s off again. 

“There’s something I don’t place exactly. You clearly have a problem with some kinda textures. The gel, the cream, it’s…”

“Just—I… shit,” Sakusa suddenly curses and Atsumu feels bad immediately.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, let’s drop it. I know it looks like it but I didn’t come here to satisfy my curiosity,” he says a little desperately. “I really just want to—Hey! Eyes up, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa blushes but does look up. He seems pissed off when he talks again, and not for the first time since they met, Atsumu’s mind conjures up the image of a giant grumpy cat.

“No, you’re right. That’s… accurate. It’s just—I’m not used to talk about these things.”

Well, that’s a given, and very obvious too. But Atsumu can’t help and dismiss that because his heart just swells a little while a wave of warmth takes over his body at the stupid implication.

Sakusa is still talking about it with Atsumu, and as reluctant as he is, he doesn’t seem like he _doesn’t_ want to be talking.

Nontheless, Sakusa has done so much already. They’ve made trememdous progress today, and Atsumu would rather keep that and focus on what’s really at stake. Sakusa’s comfort. 

“That’s why we can drop it,” he reiterates, offering another way out. 

Sakusa seems to contemplate it seriously, so Atsumu goes all out, not even regretting it.

If he can tease again and make Sakusa laugh and clear the air for good, it’s all that matters. He moves his hand across Sakusa's arm and...

“We were literally insultin’ each other just yesterday,” Atsumu gasps again dramatically. “You’re probably gonna do that again in the near future. Might reciprocate, dunno—”

“The textures.”

Atsumu produces the most embarrassing throaty noise when the words die in his throat.

Sakusa seems to have mastered the art of looking away when Atsumu needs an answer the most, but at least, he’s not leaving him hanging for long.

“Some of them, I associate them to what I think is gross. I got stuck in some patterns and that… that led to a certain form of touch aversion. I…”

Atsumu stops moving entirely, his hand stilling around Sakusa’s elbow. 

Before that precise moment, Atsumu sure brushed the surface of Sakusa’s struggles but this is an entire new level of disclosing personal information. Of revealing himself.

A few long seconds pass, and Sakusa doesn’t move so Atsumu assumes he’s done. He’s still a little shaken but doesn’t show it. Instead he goes back to rubbing the cream into Sakusa’s skin and jolts when the actor speaks up again.

“I have a few... minor disorders. They’re... manageable but when the things that bring me high discomfort are paired up with an environment I can’t control…”

He doesn’t complete the sentence, Atsumu doesn’t even try to hide his surprise or any of the different emotions that cross his face at that.

Sakusa isn’t looking away this time. Actually the way their eyes meet feels entirely too intimate for Atsumu to breathe evenly. 

He processes the words. Play them over and over in his mind. That’s not _a few guesses,_ that is an entire veil Atsumu got to lift off the mystery that Sakusa Kiyoomi is.

Not just a piece of the puzzle, but a precious key to understand a man he’s misjudged severely.

And it’s not _simple,_ because what Sakusa had to go through for them to get there was anything but. Yet, it’s just coming all together that easily and suddenly and Atsumu can’t believe it’s even happening.

So much makes sense, now, though. 

And after the overwhelming relief and crushing surprise, after the shock… Atsumu finds himself feeling for Sakusa a lot more than he has until now.

_It’s living hell._

Atsumu doesn’t dare say it, because Sakusa’s implication was clear as day and he doesn’t need that to be rubbed in his face, but Atsumu can believe it, empathy or not.

Especially since Sakusa hasn’t been navigating waters he’s comfortable with.

There are still so many questions Atsumu needs to get answers to, and the reason why Sakusa finds the environment they’re in so hostile is one of them. The production assistant knows that, he knows that since _day one,_ since that audition, Sakusa has been forced through something that isn’t easy for him and that if he felt better working on this film, it probably would be a lot more manageable.

Atsumu wants to tell him that he’s sorry he participated in that sad spiral but it doesn’t seem like it’s what Sakusa needs to hear right now.

Instead, Atsumu forces himself to get a grip and asks:

“You’re comfortable telling me these things?”

Surprisingly, Sakusa considers it. He even looks puzzled for a second, then his eyes gleam with something that looks like determination.

“No,” he breathes out, sounding careful. “That’s the last word I’d choose to describe it.”

Atsumu’s throat gets stupidly tight. It’s not a surprise, and he shouldn’t even be hurt by something that is so logical, but he’s left enduring the way his stomach churn in miserably.

“But,” Sakusa speaks up immediately and Atsumu’s heart flutters in his chest. “That doesn’t mean I hate it. I don’t really get why… but unpacking made me feel better. I don’t talk about these things with people around me. They just don’t care or—they’re… they’re too close.”

Atsumu is honestly at a loss for words, for a moment. He barely keeps rubbing the cream, going through with the task like a robot.

His feelings are so conflicted it’s hard to focus. There’s the implication that Atsumu was an exception, that he did help, that for _once_ , Sakusa could speak freely about something that torments him so much.

But then there’s the cold shower. _They’re too close,_ as opposed to the way Atsumu and Sakusa are anything but that — and obviously Atsumu isn’t mad about it.

He’s just torn.

And he needs a breather, he finds out, suddenly feeling oddly drained.

“I guess sometimes it’s easier to open up to a stranger, right?” Atsumu offers with a smile, trying to sound as light as possible.

Sakusa sighs, Atsumu lets go of his arm.

“I guess it is,” he hears Sakusa say.

Atsumu is exhausted, but he gets back to his feet with as much energy as he can muster, grabbing the used wipes and still smiling.

“All done, Omi-kun,” he says cheerfully. “All shiny for the glam team. We should head back to the beauty room now, so they can give you a real makeover. Feelin’ up to it?”

Sakusa is stunned. There’s no other word. He clearly didn’t see that coming. Nor did Atsumu, if he's honest.

“Yeah… I think I do,” Sakusa answers slowly, looking around as if he's just finding out they're still on set. 

Atsumu realizes how the pace just picked up brutally so he forces himself to take a deep breath.

“Ya did great. But I think that was enough for now. You kinda have a long day ahead and I’ll get scolded if they find out I’m holdin’ you back.”

Sakusa squints slightly but then he nods and follows Atsumu up. 

Atsumu gets awfully self-conscious as Sakusa observes him for a little longer in silence. He’s not sure he can survive another stare down with these dark eyes, so the production assistant grabs the supplies he brought and spins on his heels.

“Alright, let’s get back!”

The walk across the set is silent. As silent as it gets while they cross a warehouse swarming with a crew running around, but they don’t exchange another word.

Atsumu leads the way, trying to keep all the thoughts in his head at bay. He just can’t really process them right now because it feels like everything is a mess. And even if he wanted to, they reach the hallway leading to the dressing and beauty rooms before he gets the chance.

He stops by one of the furthest doors and finally looks back at Sakusa.

The actor comes to a halt next to him and Atsumu suddenly feels extra awkward.

It’s also the stupidest reaction possible, so he dismisses it and points at the door with a grin.

“This is Miwa,” Atsumu says, taking a step to the side to free the path and go back to the set. It’s better to leave _now._ “She’ll take care of ya. I’ll go tell Adriah—”

“Miya.”

Atsumu freezes. His heartbeat gets wild by contrast.

He forces himself to meet Sakusa’s eyes and is surprised to find him composed. Despite the messy appearance, despite the fake blood Atsumu clearly couldn’t get rid of, despite what he’s just witnessed. Sakusa seems calm and collected, and his voice is perfectly even. 

His words are meaningful too, and they weigh on Atsumu as much as if he was delivering some intense lines, but they’re as simple as it gets.

“Thank you, Miya.”

“I—”

Atsumu wished he could just scoff and tell him _I merely did what I had to do,_ but can’t. It’s not true.

He gets flustered again so instead of sounding dismissive, Atsumu stutters when he answers.

“No problem at all, Omi-kun. No problem at all.”

He can’t be that affected, can he? 

Yet here he is, feeling like he’s met a new person.

Here Atsumu is, realizing he might just have brushed the surface of the person he actually dreamed of meeting that day before Sakusa’s audition. Except it’s through emotions that are impossibly raw and lows that gives him a vertiginous preview of the possible highs left ahead of them.

He’s definitely the one who needs a short break now, and that makes Atsumu chuckle quietly.

“I’ll see you there,” he hears himself say.

“Yes, sure,” Sakusa answers as his hand finds the doorknob.

Atsumu feels both too crushed and too light as he starts walking away but then…

Then words just replay in his mind and get him moving before he can actually think it over.

Atsumu knows he’s turning around and trying to look as nonchalant as he can but that he clearly fails and that it doesn’t really matter. 

Sakusa doesn’t budge, quietly waiting for Atsumu.

So Atsumu does what he does best. Best than any job he’s passionate about, best than being there for others. 

Atsumu is blunt and open about the feelings storming inside him.

“You know... that thing you said about bein’ strangers? That was fair but…"

It should be easy. No matter how heartfelt he sounds, no matter the meaning Atsumu wants to give his words. They should come to him as easily as a _thank you, Miya._ Yet he feels like he's never been more honest with anyone in his entire life, and that isn't nothing.

It shouldn't be like taking a leap of faith, but it sure feels like it. Yet, Atsumu doesn't think one second about backing away.

He holds Sakusa's gaze until the last second, and simply says:

"I just think it doesn’t have to always stay that way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! That chapter was really HEAVY but it was a turning point and I hope you appreciated it. Although the fic is all outlined, I only realized when I started writing it that the scene would need to get deep, intense and long so that shift in their relation wouldn't be rushed nor its consequences. Because of that, as some of you might have noticed, I'm adding a chapter to the total count because this whole arc had to have its own.
> 
> Just to clear things: I didn't want to name mysophobia or OCDs from that up close. In this fanfic, Sakusa clearly struggles with various disorders, as he explains, but I don't think focusing more on the clinical aspect of it is going to be of use either for us or for Atsumu (especially at this point). He's not his therapist, he wants to be his friend. But yes, if you have further questions about what Sakusa is struggling with, I can totally answer them in reviews/cc :)
> 
> Next update will be a LOT more light-hearted before we get serious and deep again. I don't want to tease anyone but I totally will: the "gay panic" and "sexual tension" tags will finally be acting up eheh. For now I'm soft and in my feels, and I hope you are too ♥ Thank you so much for your feedback! See you!


	9. Surrender now, or prepare to fight!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: light nsfw sexual content and gay panic, here we go, lads!

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴 𝟾. - 𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝙰 𝙷𝙾𝚃𝙴𝙻 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙾𝙺𝚈𝙾. 𝚂𝙰𝙺𝚄𝚂𝙰 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙼𝙸𝚉𝚄'𝚂 𝙵𝙻𝙾𝙾𝚁. - 𝙳𝙰𝚈

There’s nothing easier than falling into habits, creating routines that run like clockwork, following patterns that are grounding. 

Atsumu’s drill starts with two light knocks on a door panel he vouched never to knock on ever again and it’s always followed with a suspicious look over.

“One raspberry ripple iced drink with cream,” Atsumu proclaims, pushing the paper cup into Sakusa’s face.

No sparkles.

“I’ll see you on set, Omi-kun.”

Then the door clicks shut and Atsumu turns toward Shimizu’s door.

It goes on like that every day.

Two knocks. A curt “Hi.”

“White chocolate and oreo frappuccino, a chef’s choice,” Atsumu declares, handing over the drink before swirling around to get away.

_Knock knock._

“Morning Omi-kun! May I interest you in a choco-choco nutty frappuccino with mocha cream and extra caramel syrup?”

No sparkles, nor suspicion. This one leaves Sakusa stunned enough to not be able to answer before Atsumu takes his leave.

It’s not even about nailing it anymore, Atsumu has to admit after more than a week of doing this. It’s about the way the door to suite #15 opens faster and faster every day and Sakusa has more and more difficulty to hide the pull of his lips when Atsumu explains what’s on the menu today.

_Knock—_

“Oh! Hello, sir!” Atsumu jolts away from the door as it swings open before he’s even done tapping. “One cotton candy monster shake with whipped cream and gummy bear topping. No, there’s no coffee in this one either, they didn’t have enough room for that.”

“You’re full of shit,” Sakusa says as he grabs the drink with squinting eyes.

“Yeah but that shit is full of sugar. C’m’on, still not the right order?”

“Go away, Miya.”

Then for the first time in two weeks, Sakusa does something new and breaks the routine. 

The door is ajar and his arm reaches forward, pushing Atsumu lightly in the shoulder to urge him to turn around.

Contact. Sakusa went and willingly touched him. 

Atsumu stays frozen in place. The door clicks shut like every other morning.

Because even if there are minor variations in the routine, nothing much has changed since that day. Atsumu knows better than to invade Sakusa’s space. They’re doing too good for Atsumu to take the risk to ruin the delicate balance they’ve established.

Sakusa needs time to open up and Atsumu is painfully aware how cornered Sakusa has to be to do so. That’s why he doesn’t push him, not after seeing him bare like this. Atsumu keeps an eye from afar, creates stupid moments like this morning routine to make sure Sakusa doesn’t feel isolated…

And tries hard not to enjoy it too much. It’s work, only work. They’re not friends, they’re coworkers and Atsumu is supposed to support and help Sakusa as a duty. Assuming anything else because Sakusa can be fun, or because he’s gorgeous whether he _rarely_ smiles or not, would be a mistake. 

“Atsumu-san?” Shimizu calls from the end of the corridor.

Atsumu shakes his head frantically. 

“Comin’! Morning Shimizu-san,” Atsumu offers as he treads over her door to give the usual cup of Jasmine tea he gets for her every morning. “Ready to head out, I see!”

Shimizu nods with a gentle smile, tucking her script under her arm as she grabs the cup.

He was spacing out, as he does often lately when Sakusa is involved, which is clearly a problem. Sakusa isn’t the only person he’s supposed to take care of. Shimizu needs his entire attention too. The whole crew does. That’s why Atsumu has been limiting his time on set since that day. Sakusa didn’t have any other painstakingly complicated scene to go through. Atsumu should focus on _everyone._

Shimizu drops the card to her hotel room in Atsumu’s palm, like they do every morning. Another routine. Atsumu definitely _can_ focus on everyone else, it’s not just Sakusa. He doesn’t have to think about Sakusa all the time. 

“It’s our last day on this set, I’m a little sad but kind of excited to be moving forward,” Shimizu explains almost sheepishly as soon as they start walking toward the elevator.

That woman is so adorable despite her beautiful deadly looks, that Atsumu gets shot through the heart at least twice a day just with the whiplash he experiences from her being all gentle and sweet when he picks her up and her holding Sakusa at gunpoint on set while describing the way she could have him killed by her fictional minions.

It’s hot, but Atsumu can’t help but feel nothing but fondness for her.

“There’s no need to be sad, we have weeks of shooting ahead and plenty of cool sets to see,” he tells her while he holds the door.

And it’s only when she nods and passes by him that it clicks for Atsumu.

They _are_ leaving the intense set in the warehouse behind after two weeks down there and the next one is—

“Do you think we will have fun shooting the next scene?” Shimizu asks genuinely and the fact she sounds so innocent makes Atsumu choke on his own spit.

_The goddamn sex scene!_

Meian would probably slap Atsumu behind the head if he heard him refer to this part of the scenario as _the goddamn sex scene_ but Atsumu doesn’t know how else to _call it_ when his mind starts reeling over it. Which he was really good at avoiding up until now.

They’ll be in bed, _bathed in the filtering morning sun,_ as described in the script, at the end of a long night of love-making. Fun, cool. Sure, it will be fun.

Atsumu knows why his brain successfully avoided remembering that. Sakusa and Shimizu are going to be almost naked, probably wearing nothing more than a pair of nude underwear, sharing bed sheets and pretending to be two hot people making hot love… Jesus, it’s too _hot_ for January, Atsumu has to roll down the car window.

At least it’s easy to lead the conversation back toward safe waters and keep his mind out of the gutter during the ride but Atsumu should know he can never really know peace by now. Actually, fate has the twisted habit of making him go through the most intense emotional rollercoasters way too often.

“Atsumu, could I have a moment?” Kita asks as the day is almost over.

Adriah just took both Shimizu and Sakusa to the dressing rooms to clean up and prepare to head back to the hotel. The crew is buzzing around to dismantle the main light projectors and start to take the set apart.

Inunaki and the director are both beckoning him near the video village so Atsumu rushes there without a second thought.

“Congratulations on wrapping the set on time,” Atsumu tells them as he stops in front of both men with a cheerful smile.

“Thank you. You’ve been of tremendous help all along,” Kita immediately commends him.

The reaction is quite instant, a wave of warmth diffuses inside Atsumu’s chest.

“Especially when we started. We needed someone to ease the talents’ mind and you did great. You’re a real peacemaker.”

That is the first figurative step Atsumu misses. _Peacemaker,_ of course. He can’t think about the months it took for him and Sakusa to just be cordial to each other. Nor the absolute horrors they told one another in private. Peacemaker will have to do.

“In fact, we’re moving to another delicate scene tomorrow, and Inunaki-san, Tomas-san and I talked about it, we would appreciate it if you could be with us until we get it over with.”

Here goes the second step. Atsumu might fall down the whole flight of stairs if he isn’t careful.

Kita needs him on set because he’s useful with the talents. Good, unexpected, great, perfect even.

Kita needs him on set while Sakusa and Shimizu are pretending to have sex. Atsumu doesn’t know what’s the direct antonym for _optimal_ but he knows its definition: and it’s that precise scenario. The most unsatisfactory situation possible. 

“Thank you, Kita-san. I don’t deserve the praise, I—” Atsumu starts mumbling but Inunaki cuts in.

“Adriah will be busy with the second unit for some outdoor shots so I don’t have a second assistant to take care of the actors during the shooting. You guys are the closest to Shimizu-san and Sakusa-san. They need intimacy and to feel comfortable during the takes. I can’t have just anyone lurking around.”

Atsumu feels dizzy. Intimacy would be the key word, and it’s what triggers him into protesting a little more directly.

“Yeah? Then maybe you should ask Miwa or Yachi. Shimizu-san might prefer it if it’s a _woman_ who stays around.”

“I agree, but Yachi is glued to her monitor and Miwa is already part of the minimal crew I’ll keep on set and she won’t be able to fill in all the time,” Inunaki explains.

Atsumu feels like he’s sinking through the ground.

“It’s as usual. Make sure they’re covered in between takes, that they get something to drink, and that they feel like someone is listening if they need anything. You’ll hide on set during the takes to make it easier. We just want to make sure they’re not left alone when they’re in that vulnerable position.”

Atsumu wants to scream by now.

“What d’ya mean _hide on set_ exactly?”

“We’ll figure it out. The camera is going to move around a lot, the crew has to stay outside and I don’t want them alone,” Kita interjects with his soothing tone. “Can I trust you Atsumu? It will be unnerving for them both, as short staffed as we get, while we film these moments and I’d rather have someone _they_ trust as well around. You’ve been spending a lot of time with them, it’s only natural.”

This is so unfair. Atsumu knows Kita isn’t trying to manipulate him, but it’s still upsetting that he’s praising him in such a critical moment and it works on Atsumu like a charm. He doesn’t even have a solid reason to say no. Atsumu can and _will_ be professional no matter what situation he gets himself in.

He just didn’t think he’d have to struggle this hard.

Hide on set during a sex scene involving Sakusa… 

Atsumu swallows the lump in his throat, tongue dry. He can do this. He’s always thought Sakusa was hot, and he’s always got over it for a thousand reasons. It’s just another trial and he’ll show how reliable he is by getting through it without any incident.

And there’s a valid reason that makes Atsumu want to be there instead of someone else.

Kita isn’t manipulating him, he’s stating the truth when he says they need someone to rely on. Just like that day when he sent Atsumu after Sakusa, he’s right about him needing someone he trusts around during complicated scenes. Atsumu needs to think of them and their needs first.

“Okay… Alright,” he sighs, trying to smile. “But lemme ask them first, okay? Especially Shimizu-san. I’ll drive them both back to the hotel tonight so we can talk about it.”

Kita isn’t beaming — because Kita would never _beam_ or anything close — but the expression on his face makes Atsumu suppress a shudder born from pride. He’s hopeless. 

“Thank you, Atsumu.”

“Of course.”

Really hopeless.

Sakusa is _sulking._

“Please, hide your joy a lil’ better, won’t ya Omi-kun?” Atsumu says as he swings the van door open.

If the actor is sulking now, Atsumu doesn’t even want to know what it’s going to be when he announces the news.

“It’s an exception, by the way. ‘m’not doing this to ruin your day,” Atsumu adds while they wait for Shimizu in the parking lot.

Sakusa rolls his eyes and leans against the van with a short sigh. Atsumu exhales hard through his nose. 

He thought he was over Sakusa refusing to ride to and from work with him but it still stings a little. Sakusa has his reasons, though, and they’ve come a long way, so Atsumu might as well try to set a good mood before the heavy discussion.

“Aren’t you glad to be done with the warehouse? Thought you’d be in a good mood,” Atsumu asks, throwing his hands in the pockets of his khaki winter coat.

Sakusa’s eyes flick toward him, taking a moment before replying as if to appraise the Atsumu’s intentions.

“I’m glad,” he answers a little curtly.

Atsumu almost chuckles.

“I can totally see that. C’m’on! It’s behind ya, and you totally floored everyone. You should be mad proud. So why the long face?” he presses on, suspecting what’s putting the actor in such a gloomy mood.

“If there’s one person on this set who knows why the long face, it’s you Miya, so spare me,” Sakusa suddenly drops and that catches Atsumu off guard completely.

 _“Spare me?”_ he repeats, stunned. “Hey! I’ll have you know I spend my time doin’ just that, you ungrateful jerk,” Atsumu objects, wounded.

He immediately regrets it, but surprisingly, Sakusa doesn’t glare. He just sighs more heavily.

“And you do it best when you don’t tiptoe around, so please. It’s not what I need right now.”

Atsumu silently gapes while Sakusa looks at the tip of his boots.

It’s the first time Sakusa expresses what he wants from Atsumu, especially unprompted. It’s the first time he _asks something from him._ Genuinely.

Suddenly Atsumu is dragged back two weeks prior, crouching in between two flight cases in front of a distraught Sakusa. 

_That doesn’t mean I hate it. I don’t really get why… but unpacking made me feel better. I don’t talk about these things with people around me._

Kita was right, Atsumu is right. Sakusa won’t be able to verbalize what bugs him if he doesn’t get what he desperately lacks and needs: the one thing Atsumu seems capable to offer. A little faith. 

Atsumu takes a deep breath and steps in front of Sakusa before he can regret it. 

“That kind of scene… they’re never pleasant, but you’ve got the best partner, you’ll figure it out,” he tells Sakusa firmly.

The pair of dark eyes trail back to him, veiled with bleakness.

Atsumu gets the reminder: there are still so many things he doesn’t understand where Sakusa is concerned. Is it the touch aversion? Is it because it’s a woman? He never got to talk about that part, in the end, and for all he knows, Sakusa might be thrown off by the idea of getting so physical with a woman. Atsumu is clueless and it’s not the place to sort this out.

“I know. I’m just not looking forward to it,” Sakusa admits, a little defensive.

“Sure. But it’s Shimizu-san. She’s super cool, and delicate, and pretty. She’s more than pretty, actually,” Atsumu corrects himself. “She’s gorgeous. You _really_ could have it—”

The words die on Atsumu’s lips slowly as Sakusa’s expression morphs into something close to disdain.

Atsumu’s stomach drops a little. _Oh, of course._

“I mean it doesn’t matter what she looks like. She’s caring and cool, she’ll be amazing,” he mutters fast.

Sakusa crosses his arms.

“No, but please do go on, Miya. Want to trade with me?” Sakusa asks, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her—”

“Oi, shaddap! That’s not what it is about!” Atsumu can’t help but sound aggressive, feeling an intense blush creep up his cheeks. 

Not only is it extremely offensive of him to assume Atsumu is vulgar enough to have this kind of consideration but Sakusa couldn’t be more far off the truth if he’s implying Atsumu would trade his place in the bed to be with Shimizu. 

And just as the thought strikes him, Atsumu realizes he shouldn’t be so horrified. Sakusa doesn’t need to know Atsumu would actually trade with Shimizu—no, actually, Atsumu doesn’t want to trade with anyone because he’s a good production assistant who’s trying to cheer an insecure actor up. Not an unprofessional jerk who’s got the hots for the lead actor of a movie and thirsts openly over him. 

“You sure?” Sakusa tilts his head to the side with a derogatory nod.

Atsumu steps in, a little too close if he’s honest, but it’s too late to think about it.

“I said shut—”

He doesn’t have the time to hammer it because he can see Shimizu enter the parking lot from the corner of his eye and immediately steps back. He needs to calm down, it’s absolutely stupid to get riled up over this situation.

Atsumu tames his voice down, frowning as he rushes to say:

“Don’t imply shit. You’ve got it all wrong.”

Sakusa doesn’t seem impressed. He just raises both hands, rolling his eyes a little.

“Chill down, then,” he tells Atsumu with a tiny shrug.

“Insufferable! You’ve got the worst personality,” Atsumu scowls, keeping it down nonetheless.

“So I’ve been told. But you’re a connoisseur, aren’t you?” 

This time, there’s the ghost of a smirk on the actor’s lips. Atsumu suddenly feels the urge to bite it off and that is outrageous enough for him to turn away, fists clenching in the pockets of his coat.

He doesn’t even know why he’s so worked up. Sakusa isn’t stupid, he knows Atsumu would never imply something that crass. It shouldn’t even matter to Atsumu what Sakusa assumes about him. Especially not about his sexuality. 

Thankfully, Shimizu is here to distract him by the time he looks away so Atsumu gets a grip and shakes himself off.

Doors snap shut and Atsumu waits until he’s turned the engine on to speak again. It’s easy to smile when they’re not directly looking at him. He’s just thinking about how to start the conversation when Shimizu gets there for him.

“You wanted to talk to us, Atsumu-san?”

Atsumu clears his throat and glances through the mirror to catch her eyes. She looks perfectly serene, as usual. Sakusa is leaning against the window but Atsumu knows he’s listening. 

_You do it best when you don’t tiptoe around, so please._

“I do. Kita-san brought up the new scene we’re starting to film tomorrow. He said the crew will be minimized to the most important persons on set so you two aren’t too… y’know. We don’t need a thousand assholes to scrutinize every detail of the scene.”

Atsumu tries to sound as nonchalant as can be but he can’t help the annoying heat spreading along his nape. He gives them a few seconds, gauging their reactions but there’s only silence. Shimizu is looking back in the mirror, waiting. 

Atsumu might as well say it. Except he doesn’t get to.

“And he asked you to stay,” Sakusa eventually supplies after a long pause.

Atsumu’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

“Well, yeah. Yeah, he did. He said he needed someone on set to take care of ya and—anyway, Shimizu-san, I told him I’d ask first. Miwa will be there, of course. But she can’t—It’s just that—”

“Oh, I’m so glad it’s you.”

The relief in Shimizu’s voice is clearly not what Atsumu expected. She’s _not_ the expressive kind, to begin with, and he just offered to be a bystander during an intimate scene she has to perform half naked. Clearly, crushing relief was the last reaction he thought he’d get.

“You’re—” Atsumu can’t even speak.

“Yes, really. I thought you’d be too busy but lucky us, you’re not. It’s comforting to know it won’t be a total stranger, right Sakusa-san?”

The fact they’re not calling each other by their given names when they have to play lovers is endearing and funny enough to make Atsumu relax a little but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t entirely disappear. Sakusa isn’t answering, eyes still glued to whatever is worthy of interest outside of the vehicle.

He doesn’t leave Shimizu hanging too long, because Atsumu noticed he respects her greatly, but the time he takes to answer her feels like an eternity nonetheless.

Eventually, his gaze shifts toward the mirror, meeting Atsumu’s who immediately pretends to focus back on the road. He can still feel its weight on him as Sakusa finally speaks up:

“It is a relief.”

Atsumu sucks in a breath.

_Knock knock._

Maybe Sakusa could _not_ open the door this morning. Maybe Osamu is right and Atsumu needs to chill because for all his struggles, he’s still a lucky bastard. Maybe Atsumu should stop _thinking_ altogether—

“Miya,” Sakusa greets him as the door opens.

Atsumu doesn’t need to think to be hit by the realization that Sakusa didn’t cease to be gorgeous overnight.

“One double double fudge bar frappuccino,” Atsumu says as he shoves it in his face.

“Double _double?”_

“Yeah, prepare for trouble, or whatever the hell does that pokémon say.”

Atsumu’s clownery is rewarded with a light smile. Precisely the kind Sakusa doesn’t throw around gratuitously but that makes him look twice as beautiful. At this point, even if Atsumu wanted to align two coherent thoughts, he wouldn’t be able to. 

“That’s not Meowth’s line,” Sakusa says, his smile replaced by a grave expression.

Atsumu is painfully aware that he’s blinking like a total idiot already, but if his short-circuit wasn’t obvious enough, Sakusa snorts.

“It’s James’ line. Know your classics,” the actor deadpans before closing the door in Atsumu’s face.

There’s a long beat before Atsumu picks up his jaw from where it's laying on the floor. A long beat before he pinpoints what’s the weird feeling in his chest.

Atsumu’s heart is fluttering and the dumb but fond smile on his face is properly disgusting.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi is a nerd?” Osamu snorts as they walk up the alley leading to the studio not even an hour later.

“Shut your loud mouth,” Atsumu urges him in a panicked whisper, glancing at Shimizu’s back who’s walking far ahead.

Osamu shakes his head, aggravated.

“And what if she hears? She’d agree with me. It’s okay, he gets a free pass for bein’ an otaku. He’s a cool as fuck famous actor, so cut me some slack. Anyway, you’re into that nerdy shit, so why are ya panicking?”

“Because!” Atsumu sputters in a frenzy, each of his twin’s words cutting him. “He has no fuckin’ right!”

“Here we go, _again_ ,” Osamu groans deep from his chest.

Atsumu jabs him in the flank. 

Osamu immediately hooks his arm around his brother’s neck, dragging him down to tousle his hair drastically. 

“Poor littol ‘Tsumu who has to deal with a hot guy who checks all the boxes on his littol fantazies list. Oikawa Tooru could nev—”

“I’m goin’ to kill you!” Atsumu yells, thrashing in his hold.

Of course Shimizu turns around to look at them with concern. Osamu doesn’t even let go of him, only waves a hand at her with a smile. Atsumu tries to push him away but the bastard isn’t budging. Shimizu keeps walking — it’s not the first morning Osamu rode with them and she gets to be the direct witness to their shenanigans.

It gives Osamu all the room he needs to lean in and mutter while he wrestles Atsumu:

“Anyway, told ya you had it comin’. Complaining about ‘im being hot and cool is undecent. Complaining about seeing ‘im naked on set is outrageous and ya should shut yer trap and be grateful, scrub.”

His grip eases after that and Atsumu shoves him back successfully.

“I don’t have to be grateful for shit! He can’t stand me, there’s literally nothing good in ‘im being hotter by the minute. It’s worse if anythin’.”

Atsumu throws his hands in his pockets, sending an evil glare to his twin who casually shrugs in return.

“Maybe you deserve that. Maybe it’s fate gettin’ back at ya for being an ass all your life. Wait for the tragic moment when we have the confirmation he’s not gay, it’s gonna be priceless. Please, be near me when it happens, I need to see your soul leavin’ your body firsthand.”

“You’re the evil twin. Yer a monster, ‘Samu!”

“You got it wrong. It’s just me givin’ you a reality check once in a while. I’m doing it for yer own good,” Osamu sing-songs the last words with a grin.

“I’ve heard that before and just came out more miserable,” Atsumu can’t help but pity himself.

His twin doesn’t empathize with him one second. 

“That’s the Miya twins for ya. A whole brand. Miserable bisexual pining lads,” he says as he spreads his hands in front of his face to mimic an invisible sign flashing in the air. 

Atsumu would like to scream from sheer frustration, he really would, but instead he starts chuckling uncontrollably and when he looks at Osamu, his brother winks at him. That bastard knows him too well, it’s infuriating.

“At least, one of us isn’t doomed,” Atsumu eventually says as they reach the studio premises. “I saw you had the balls to finally text _him_?” 

“Absolutely and _he_ left me on read yesterday night, which is why I’m gonna head this way and meet Aran at craft instead of goin’ on set. See ya!” Osamu answers at the speed of light, seemingly realizing where they are.

His twin is gone before Atsumu can tell him Suna won’t be on set and is very likely to lurk around the craft table today because they’re keeping the crew to a small group and he’ll probably chase after a snack soon… 

Whether it’s under the form of a sandwich or one Miya Osamu.

Yes, even if Osamu hadn’t fled like a coward, Atsumu would have kept his mouth shut. For his brother’s love life’s sake.

“Siblings love, mmh? You two are lucky to have each other,” Shimizu’s voice suddenly drags him back to reality and Atsumu realizes he caught up to her.

He doesn’t get to answer that, though, since Adriah appears out of the blue to lead Shimizu to her dressing room. Atsumu is left alone with his crimson face in the entrance of the new set.

And he doesn’t have to knock twice on this door to get to see Sakusa.

“There’s only one bed,” Atsumu hears himself say.

He hears it echoing in his empty head for ages. Long after Inunaki has stopped laughing at him, long after Kita sent him that confused glance. Long after Atsumu had the displeasure to realize he’s a walking meme.

“Yes, and you’re not getting in it, champ,” Inunaki snickers.

Well, _obviously,_ Atsumu knows that, but that isn’t why he pointed it out in the first place.

_You’ll hide on set during the takes to make it easier._

Where exactly is Atsumu supposed to hide on this set since the bedroom of the protagonist is merely made up of a single bed, a tiny bedside table and…

“I can’t hide behind the curtains, can I?” Atsumu points out in disbelief.

“Clearly not, you’d ruin Bokkun’s light with your ugly shadow. It’s fine, you’ll get out in between takes, it’s not like it’s really narrow or you’ll cramp—”

“Get out of _where,_ Inu-san?” Atsumu asks, eyes widening.

It’s even _worse_ now that the assistant director looks at him as if Atsumu is brain-dead. Of course he can do the maths by himself but…

“You can’t be serious,” Atsumu blurts out as he drags Inunaki in a corner of the set.

His colleague is quick to snatch his elbow back, utterly surprised.

“I saw your giant ass stuck in a car trunk for a whole freezing night before, what’s gotten into you suddenly?” Inunaki asks.

“It was different,” Atsumu counters, the uncomfortable — but fun — memory flashing in his mind.

“Why? Because it was your first movie? Became big-headed along the way?”

“No! Inu-san, please! No, of course not,” Atsumu immediately protests, horrified by the sudden implication. “I didn’t, I’m doing it. I was just bein’ silly.”

“Yes, you were. We’re lucky not to have divas on set so don’t start acting like one, dude. It’s not like you,” Inunaki tells him with a light punch in the shoulder.

This is mortifying. Atsumu is mortified. This is the worst outcome possible. 

Atsumu has never been reprimanded on set, his work has never been questioned and here he is being heavily judged by the conductor of the whole movie because he can’t stop listening to his dick.

At least Osamu isn’t there to judge him but Atsumu’s ego burns all the same. 

The mental slap he gives himself is revolutionary. What is Atsumu even doing, acting like an horny teen who can’t keep it together in front of his crush?

It’s pathetic. Inunaki has a point: it’s not like him at all.

That’s why Atsumu walks over to Kita a couple of minutes later, his mind clear and his voice firm when he declares: “Tell me how can I be of help, Kita-san.”

Inunaki’s walkie talkie goes off before the director can answer, Adriah’s voice piercing through the static.

“Talents on set.”

And on cue, the door opens and Sakusa and Shimizu step in, clutching the front of the long bathrobes they’re clad in. 

Atsumu is grateful for the general commotion caused by their arrival because no one can hear him swallow hard the lump stuck in his throat. Everyone settles down fast on Inunaki’s command, though, and soon both actors are brought in front of Kita — and Atsumu.

Miwa follows and drops their personal bottles and straws in Atsumu’s arms without a warning. He barely catches them but keeps his cool nonetheless, aware both Sakusa and Shimizu’s eyes are on him.

“Good morning,” Kita greets them quietly, bowing slightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Very relaxed. Miwa-san took good care of us,” Shimizu answers with a warm smile.

Miwa raises two thumbs, a triumphant expression on her face. Atsumu can feel his lips twitch and is relieved to see he’s still capable of having fun.

“Great. We’re going to keep it that way. I know how delicate this scene is and I want you both in the best conditions possible. We will all be working toward this goal. Atsumu will be there for support and you know Yachi-san is right behind the door.”

“We’ll do our best too, Kita-san,” Shimizu assures him. 

“We will,” Sakusa finally speaks in turn. “What is your approach for this scene?”

“I do not want any static shot while you’re here. We’re meant to share your intimacy and for that I want the camera movements to be fluid, go with your flow. You’ll be leading the dance through the first takes. I have a few precise shots to get later, but I believe you are the ones who will create the atmosphere I want to catch.”

So that’s why Atsumu has to hide. There’s basically no corner in the room that is guaranteed not to be shot in this streak of takes.

“Oomimi-san will be as discreet as can be with the camera with Nishinoya-san following him like a shadow and I’ll be right there with Yachi-san behind the monitor. The only other person with you will be Atsumu.”

Atsumu’s stomach does an insane backflip at that, as both actors’ gazes move toward him. 

Sakusa’s eyes, especially, linger and Atsumu feels his cheeks heat up again. He averts his gaze but he can’t avoid the embarrassment surging in when Sakusa asks what _everyone_ is dying to know.

“Where will he be?”

“Under the bed,” Kita answers, not missing a beat. “I knew he was reliable already but it’s not everyday we get a production assistant so devoted to us. Let’s make the best of it, shall we?”

And that is how Atsumu effectively and submissively kneels by the bed minutes later, ready to disappear as the crew moves to shoot the first take. Just because he can’t say no to Kita, and especially not when he goes all out and strokes him behind the ears and showers him with praises like he would with a loyal puppy. 

“Are you going to be okay under there, Atsumu-san?” Shimizu asks with concern as she sits at the edge of the bed. 

She’s gorgeous with her bed hair and smudged makeup — a deadly reminder the characters are supposed to have had sex _all night long_ at this point — and Atsumu busies himself with the clapperboard he’s been tasked to slate, once again.

“Of course I will! It’s the easiest job on the planet. Lying down and doing nothin’. Even my brother could pull it off,” he says to make her laugh, or maybe to calm his own nerves.

It’s convincing enough because she chuckles behind her delicate hand. 

Sakusa approaches the other side of the bed, expression unreadable. Either he didn’t hear the joke or it’s not funny to him. Or he’s too much in his head, Atsumu realizes as he looks over at him.

It makes him focus back instantly.

“Seriously, though. Don’t mind me or anythin’, okay? I’m just here for support and in case you need help. Otherwise than that, I’m literally a ghost. I’m not there, I don’t wanna parasite you,” he tells them.

He also hopes he can forget he’s there himself, but that’s beside the point. 

“You won’t, of course. Thank you for doing this. We’re really sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Don’t mention it, please,” Atsumu scoffs it off.

He has to give it to Osamu when Shimizu puts it this way and call it an inconvenience herself. It could be worse. 

Sakusa unties the knot of his bathrobe and the material slips around his broad shoulders, pooling around his slender waist.

It’s worse!

God, it’s so much worse.

Atsumu offers what must be the fakest smile ever to the actress, purposefully looking away from the perfectly toned chest right in front of him and goes back to fiddling with the slate.

Oomimi takes place at the foot of the bed, camera perched on his shoulder, Nishinoya silently following with his boom mic. 

They’re ready.

Kita gives a few last directions that Atsumu shuts down to avoid conjuring up any graphic mental image before he has to estrange himself under the bed. He moves in front of the camera to slate instead.

“Quiet! Picture’s up!” Inunaki announces from the other side of the set, behind the fake wall.

Atsumu wishes he was hiding behind it as well.

Instead Oomimi’s assistant declares they’re rolling and Atsumu has to rush and read the board loud and clear.

As soon as he’s done, his brain goes on autopilot and he returns to the bed, arms stretched out.

“I’ll cover you in between takes,” he tells both actors as they get rid of the bathrobes and hand them over.

It happens fast. Fast enough for Atsumu not to have to look at Shimizu’s breasts or Sakusa at all and then he’s swiftly disappearing under the bed with the robes and the board.

He’s just settled there when he hears Shimizu whisper something in the middle of the shuffling sounds that come with them adjusting in the bed sheets.

“Oh,” she sounds surprised. “You smell like lavender, Sakusa-san.”

Atsumu’s eyes open so wide it hurts.

He smells like _what?_

A light coughing sound follows. Atsumu’s mind is _reeling._

“Yeah, I—it’s—it’s for—”

“I love it,” Shimizu goes on when Sakusa obviously struggles with finding his words. “It’s soothing. Is it a trick to help with the nerves?”

Atsumu got sucked into a vortex and launched into an entire other dimension, there’s no other explanation. There is _no_ other explanation for this.

“Yes. It’s exactly what it is. It helps with the nerves.”

Sakusa admits it in a whisper so low it’s clearly meant to be heard by Shimizu only but the set is eerily silent and Atsumu heard it as well. Osamu will be happy to know that’s when his soul left his body.

“Action!”

Atsumu shuts his eyes hard, his throat feeling awfully tight suddenly.

Sakusa never returned the bottle of essential oil, now that he thinks about it. 

Quiet kissing noises fill in the silence progressively as the fabric of the sheets shift in a lulling murmur. 

He kept it. Sakusa not only kept the bottle but he uses it when he’s nervous.

Atsumu’s heart is beating so fast he’s ready to bet Nishinoya can hear it in his headphones. He’s the one who needs lavender, or to be knocked over — but Atsumu sure needs to calm down.

“Cut!”

Kita’s call comes too soon. Atsumu startles, eyes flying open. 

“Stand by,” Inunaki follows for everyone but Atsumu who rushes to wriggle his way out from under the bed.

Thankfully, he already has too many things to be embarrassed about to feel like this is any more humiliating. 

Atsumu is just handing the bathrobes back to the actors when Kita appears on set. 

Atsumu’s eyes meet Sakusa’s over the garment and he feels like combusting. The actor’s face is, once again, unreadable, but Atsumu is convinced Sakusa didn’t want him to hear what he said to Shimizu.

“I’m sorry to interrupt already. Your chemistry is amazing, I’d rather just do it now instead of disturbing you again after you get some momentum. I need you to be more passionate. They’re making love. That night was very important to them, they were finally true to each other.”

“Understood,” Shimizu shakes her head, holding the bathrobe against her chest instead of putting it on.

“Sorry Kita-san. We’re ready to go again.”

“Of course. I apologize if I wasn’t clear before. You’re doing great.”

They exchange a few other words before Kita turns on his heel and Atsumu has to slate again.

“Quiet please…”

“Was it okay?” Sakusa asks behind Atsumu and there’s so much concern in his voice that the production assistant melts instead of Shimizu.

He can sound that genuine and caring? After all the venom he spat at Atsumu when they met?

“Please, Sakusa-san, you were so mindful.”

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” he tells her anyway.

“Slate, Atsumu!”

“I assure you, I feel really safe,” Shimizu whispers.

The conversation is so soft behind him, it dawns on Atsumu just how much he overreacted. They’re just trying to do their job, and he is too.

It’s nothing more than that. 

In no time, he gets the bathrobes back and slides under the bed.

It’s not the most embarrassing position Atsumu has even ever been in. 

Like his adorable brother reminded him before, he’s been caught making out with a poster of Oikawa Tooru when he was a teen. Aran could probably provide a list sorted by alphabetical entries of moments worth dying of shame for the production assistant. So, no, despite his multiple meltdowns, Atsumu wouldn’t chalk this up as the most embarrassing moment he’s ever lived through.

“And action!”

Above him, the mattress dips and Shimizu lets go of a _fake_ blissful sigh.

So what if they’re two of the hottest people Atsumu has ever seen? This is just like any other scene, they’re faking it. Atsumu doesn’t even have to picture it.

The kissing sounds get a little hard to ignore but he can manage it. It’s not like watching some porn, alone and with questionable intentions.

It’s just work. 

After almost a minute of quiet ruffling noises, Atsumu is actually sure he can live through it. It wasn’t that horrible, so why did he even imagine he couldn’t survive it? 

It’s like he said, the easiest job on the planet.

Until Sakusa lets out what seems like a moan. 

Or maybe he’s groaning?

The time for Atsumu to make up his mind on the matter, it’s too late. Blood rushes south and there’s no trying to sort out what is a groan from what is a moan when his dick twitches with interest in his pants…

And _now,_ it’s the most embarrassing position Atsumu ever has found himself in, ever.

It’s only work! Only work, no matter how convincing the scene sounds.

But maybe that take better lasts forever, because Atsumu is never showing his face on set ever again if he has to leave his hideout with an obvious bulge in his pants. Or not, he realizes when Sakusa moans again, somewhere above him, and all the blood in Atsumu’s face migrates toward his dick.

Is this what Sakusa sounds like in bed? 

No, no, he can’t think about that. Atsumu isn’t conjuring up _that_ precise mental image, right now.

He closes his eyes and is rewarded with the vivid picture of Sakusa’s toned chest and abs printed behind his eyelids. Atsumu opens them wide again. Certainly not.

Shimizu moans in turn, which helps Atsumu relax a little. She’s faking it, it’s obviously work, she’s simply _pretending_ to be lying under Sakusa while he _pretends_ to make love to her.

While he _pretends_ to hold her down and kiss—

Atsumu’s whole body shivers and he’s never been more grateful to be hidden under a bed than he is now. 

He needs to think about something else, anything, before he pops a boner for real — in the middle of the set — like a horny freak. That can’t be happening, he’s too young for his career to be over, for his _life_ to be over.

A raspy, throaty little sound falls off Sakusa’s lips, — _unmistakably_ Sakusa’s lips — and Atsumu feels himself getting hard for real.

His entire life is a joke.

He’s in trouble, so much trou—

_Prepare for trouble._

_Know your classics._

_Sakusa Kiyoomi is a nerd?_

_That’s right!_ as Meowth would say. Sakusa is a fucking nerd and there’s nothing sexy about that! 

At least not if Atsumu can help it and focus. There might be other things to concentrate on, anyway, many reasons why Sakusa isn’t _hot_ up Atsumu’s agenda. But as the production assistant fries his brain over that fact… another preoccupying thought assaults him brutally.

He _has_ to force himself to search for reasons not to be attracted to Sakusa actively. Because no matter how much he tried to avoid that fact, Atsumu is desperately attracted to him. 

An attraction that was clearly physical, — still _is,_ seeing how he can react from hearing him moan… — but now Atsumu remembers the idiotic smile on his face this morning and from there it’s easy to backtrack one morning after the other. It’s not just _physical,_ is it?

The lightness in his steps as he strolls down the hotel corridor with a new drink in hand every day. The not-so-ironic-anymore challenge of making Sakusa’s eyes sparkle with the right order. The undeniable way his eyes and attention are drawn to him whenever Atsumu stands in Sakusa’s vicinity. The thoughts that keep him awake at night and have no longer anything to do with anger or resentment.

 _Miserable bisexual_ pining _lads._

Once again Atsumu is horrified.

His boner was thoroughly killed, there’s no doubt about that, at least. But something else, something really stupid, something far more dangerous than some silly physical attraction is budding. Worse, it’s been blooming all along, and Atsumu was late to see it — perceptive as he is — because Sakusa is a real piece of work and Atsumu spent so much time trying to decipher the man that he didn’t realize he was catching so some sort of unreasonable feelings.

 _I caught feelings,_ the words turn over in his head on loop to the point where they get void of sense.

There’s no way. _Feelings_ is such a vague word and everything about Sakusa and what encompasses their interactions is blurry and vague. And it’s always _a lot. Overwhelming._

That’s why Atsumu is confused, that’s why for the first time in his life he compromises himself on his own turf, in his workplace, where no one ever questioned him before. That’s why he slips up.

Atsumu is confused just like anyone would be after going through the same vertiginous ups and downs.

“And cut! That was brilliant. It’s like your feelings get to us through the lense. The way they’ve fallen for each other despite their differences... it’s crystal clear. Back to one immediately.”

Atsumu’s throat has never felt so parched but he extracts himself from under the bed to slate nonetheless. His eyes immediately fall over Sakusa who looks completely disheveled. Sakusa who’s instantly looking back.

_Confused._

He’s as messy as the scenario describes it: _swollen, glistening lips; the obvious evidence of their sealed newfound love all over his face and body._

Atsumu’s heart skips a ridiculous beat. That was never part of _his_ script.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I might or might not have been stuck in Atsumu's position on a set. And I might or might not have lived the embarrassment of having to hold a bathrobe to hide an actress from view while a makeup artist reapplies foundation to her buttcheeks and then what. I didn't pop a boner, joke's on Atsumu.
> 
> I'm so happy I finally got to this chapter because it's actually one of the scenes that popped in my mind before I even outlined the whole thing thanks to this terrible personal experience and I knew it'd be super fun to write! I hope you had fun reading it.
> 
> ALTHOUGH now... we're going to get back to the plot and I hope you're ready. Next chapter is a lot more "feels" heavy after Atsumu had to let it all sink!
> 
> Eternal thank you for the support ♥ and special thanks to Nat, Trish, Alex and Minty for the crazy drinks suggestions!


	10. Give him a break.

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴 𝟿. - 𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝚆𝙸𝙽𝚂' 𝚂𝚄𝙸𝚃𝙴. - 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃

“‘Samu. If you step out of this hotel suite wearing that, I’m gonna find Suna myself and tell him yer a fuckin’ het. He’ll believe me if you go to that dinner dressed like that.”

Osamu looks down at the sweater and jeans he’s wearing then back at his twin. 

It’s all too predictable that he gives him the middle finger.

“I’ll take my chances and rely on the fact that yer a filthy liar and nothin’ that comes out of that mouth can be trusted. Suna is a wise man,” Osamu says, ready to get moving.

Atsumu scoffs dramatically.

“He’s _flirting_ with you! Try again.”

“Fuck off,” Osamu mumbles, taking full offense — as he should.

But although he should get offended, Atsumu is dumbfounded as to _how_ Osamu doesn’t see what’s wrong. That’s why he gets out of the bathroom where he’s styling his dyed curls, pointing his comb at his brother accusingly.

“‘Samu, you look like a _dad_.”

“Some guys are into that, scrub,” Osamu fights back and Atsumu just gapes.

Oh god, he _didn’t_ hear that, did he?

“Jesus, no. Oh my—Just _no!”_ Atsumu almost chokes on his own spit. “I think there’s a misunderstanding here, ‘Samu. Some guys want to call ya _daddy_ in bed, not imagine you dragging your feet and fat belly behind a horde of kiddos. That’s the current vibe yer givin’.”

“I’m not fat!” his twin protests, properly outraged by now.

But at least, Atsumu can see the doubt creeping in his brother’s eyes. He doesn’t relent.

“Yeah? I couldn’t tell with that loose… _thing_ yer wearin’.”

“It’s a sweater!” 

And as he yells that, Osamu clutches his collar like he’d clutch his pearls. Except this sweater’s collar goes—

“With a _zipper._ Grams is in better shape than this shit. And don’t start me on these jeans. I can fit two Osamus in them and god knows one’s enough already, so—”

“Shut yer trap!” Osamu wails, although by now Atsumu knows his point came across so he keeps grinning. “Stop! Just shut up and help me!”

“What is it, sweet brother of mine? Can’t help ya if I have to shut my mouth,” he sing-songs.

“ _Please_.”

Atsumu stops smirking. Osamu sounds _desperate,_ things are getting serious.

Silently, Atsumu sticks the comb between his teeth and re-does the knot of the towel hanging around his hips as dramatically as he would roll his non-existent sleeves up, then he points at his own bedroom door.

Osamu drags his feet there without a word, head hanging low. They’re an hour and a half away from the dinner party held after the first month of filming. They don’t have much time, and certainly not enough to go around the Mall and find something fitting for Osamu that he didn’t wear around the set before. Atsumu will have to make do with what he has, although it won’t be that difficult.

Suna didn’t leave Osamu on read that night, after all. 

He had just fallen asleep, naturally. Because Osamu — whipped Osamu — had simply forgotten to point out they’d been talking up until 3AM and that was why the guy had fallen asleep on him.

Atsumu kicked him in the ass when he learned that detail. It was a week ago.

No progress since then, apart from late night chuckling sounds coming from Osamu’s bedroom that tell Atsumu the two guys are flirting like idiots and nothing _more_ is happening.

This has to change, or Atsumu is going to lose it. That’s why he closes the door of the bedroom and points the comb in the direction of his wardrobe.

“Open it. Second shelf, black turtleneck, hangers, grey fitting jeans, then—”

He’s cut mid-instructions by the high-pitched tune of his ringtone. 

Both twins startle.

“Get on with it, dimwit,” Atsumu urges his brother as he rushes to his bedside table to grab the device.

Osamu is sighing heavily, as if Atsumu is asking for the goddamn moon but gets moving when he receives a pointed glare. Pointed glare that vanishes the moment Atsumu’s eyes sway from his brother to the screen of his phone.

_Higuchi Reisi._

Oh.

“Meian?” Osamu asks.

Atsumu shakes his head left and right absentmindedly, eyes glued to the screen. 

He has barely seen Sakusa’s manager over the last weeks and he couldn’t help but think it wasn’t such a bad thing. Higuchi is controlling and Sakusa is at his most stressed out when he is around, no matter how much Higuchi is trying to keep his protégé safe.

“Change yer clothes, grandpa,” Atsumu commands, unplugging the phone before heading out of the room.

A pair of boxers slaps his nape before he can escape but Atsumu doesn’t really pay attention to it. Instead he plasters a smile on his face and tries to sound as warm as possible despite the uneasiness spreading in his guts.

“Miya speaking.”

“Miya-san, thank you for picking up.”

“Of course, Higuchi-san. Everythin’ okay?”

“Absolutely. I’m just calling before tonight’s dinner,” Higuchi explains with his usual amiable tone. 

“Sure. You’re attending too?” Atsumu asks, trying to remember if the manager answered to the invitation he sent by email over the last week.

Everyone was invited to the dinner. They’re celebrating a month of filming that went smoothly — a way to thank the crew for their hard work and to allow everyone to bond over a good time instead of the long complicated days of work. 

The main cast was asked to attend as well, and Atsumu can’t say he’s not looking forward to seeing Sakusa outside of their work environment. He hasn’t had the occasion, since that terrible night when he had to help him back to his hotel while the actor was completely intoxicated. And a similar scenario isn’t likely to happen again. 

Sakusa has been doing much better lately. He’s still gloomy at times, and not entirely relaxed, but Atsumu has seen him having a good time more than once over the last weeks. He’s seen him enjoying doing his scenes. And most of all…

He’s seen him smile, although lightly and not to everyone, more often.

A smile Atsumu is not likely to see much if Higuchi is around.

“In fact, I won’t be able to attend. I’m just calling to make sure Sakusa-kun will get a lift as soon as dinner is over. He’s scheduled for an interview in the afternoon tomorrow and I’d like for him to go home early and safely. Surely you can arrange for his chauffeur to work tonight as well?”

Atsumu’s mind starts reeling the moment Higuchi mentions the interview. 

“Sure thing. Is everything okay for him?” 

“Of course! I just want it to stay that way. I’m very concerned for him, especially after what seems to have happened last time he went out. The agency has Sakusa-kun’s best interests at heart. We want him to be in a safe space.”

It makes sense, it all makes sense, Atsumu thinks. And Higuchi doesn’t sound _too_ accusatory when he says that. Just… enough for Atsumu to be unable to shake off that odd feeling twisting his insides.

“Understood. It’ll be taken care of, Higuchi-san.”

They never discussed what happened after the party at the club, but Atsumu is almost sure Higuchi had Sakusa tell him in the end. At least parts of it. 

It’s only fair that his manager would be concerned about his well-being after that. And it’s normal he would want to make sure Sakusa is sheltered after the attention — or more like _harassment_ — he received from the press since that forced outing and the rumors going around him. 

“Thank you. Really, I’m sorry it’s so much trouble that it has to be his chauffeur, but at least you don’t have to be on duty tonight watching over him, Miya-san,” Higuchi sounds so congenial.

“It’s never trouble to watch over him,” Atsumu counters, a _lot_ less affable, before his eyes go wide as he takes in his own mistake. “I mean, anything to help the agency. Everyone is concerned for him, and MSBY Productions would do anything to help you take care of him.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. A long beat. Atsumu wonders if he sounded suspicious for a second and his heartbeat paces up, his stomach churning unpleasantly.

It’s Higuchi, there’s literally no reason to snap. Atsumu is being an idiot.

“I’m relieved to hear this, Miya-san. Apologies again for the trouble, I’ll leave him in the production’s care, then. Enjoy your night out,” Higuchi finally answers.

As good-natured as ever. 

Atsumu exhales long and slow, holding the phone a little further away from his face before he speaks again.

“Thank you, Higuchi-san. I’ll let you know when Sakusa-san departs.”

“That would be wonderful.”

The call disconnects not long after and Atsumu finds himself staring at his phone, a slight nausea lingering. It’s so stupid, it almost makes him feel angry. He has no reason to feel this way. Atsumu is mixing everything up.

Not for the first time in weeks, he’s yearning. Yearning for some explanation, longing for some communication. Yearning to learn more about Sakusa, to understand him. Not to put him into a cab or his chauffeur’s car the moment he’s done having the little fun he was allowed to have.

But then Atsumu, as always, remembers he’s only a production assistant and although his job is to help him the best he can, Sakusa isn’t the only person’s interest he has to have at heart. And he’s certainly not the one he has to obey to. Miya Atsumu has duties, many of them. Higuchi’s orders come first. He’s Sakusa’s manager, he knows what’s best. 

And prioritizing Sakusa isn’t something Atsumu should always be doing, no matter how much he wants to.

No matter how much he’s developing an interest for the actor that has little to do with his admiration for him as a professional from the cinema industry. No matter how much Atsumu is catching stupid little feelings.

It’s a job. 

_Bang!_

Atsumu’s bedroom door bounces back on the wall it was just sent flying against, making him jolt out of his own skin. His phone almost falls on the floor as he swirls around to snap at his brother but he’s not given the time.

His twin is standing in the doorway, arms wide open and wearing his new outfit proudly.

“Behold, peasants! Daddy Osamu is in da place!”

And _now,_ at least, Atsumu has a solid reason to act on the nausea. 

“I didn’t agree to be the one who drives for ya be a fuckin’ coward. Go sit and have a drink with ‘im or I’m doing shots and you’ll have to drive both of us back. Alone,” Atsumu mutters so low only Osamu can hear him.

Osamu who was — a hot second ago — heading to the opposite side of the long table Suna’s sitting at.

There are three tables like these and no one is forced to sit at a particular place since they’re all supposed to bond with anyone. Groups form naturally but at the end of the day, labels are off the table. Osamu is totally free to go and sit next to the key grip if he wants to, Atsumu told him that a dozen times in the car. 

“What happened to the pining Miya twins brand, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu whines, elbowing Atsumu in the ribs.

“Fuck the brand. That brand sucks, ‘Samu.”

They’re stalling in the entrance so no one can hear them but they all can _see_ them. And with the jab Atsumu sends in his twin’s shoulder in retaliation… a lot of people are starting to _stare._

“Oi, morons,” Aran calls them from the end of the table... where Suna’s sitting. 

“Oooh, yer fucked. You can’t sit away from your best friend, ‘Samu,” Atsumu tells him, all sly.

“Aran’s _your_ best friend,” Osamu whispers through gritted teeth.

Panic smells nasty, Atsumu can’t stop smirking.

“Okay, then I’m _your_ best friend who's gonna sit next to his best friend who's sitting next to Sun—” Atsumu is cut off abruptly by a nasty finger flick between the eyes. “I’m gonna kill ya!”

Osamu is already running away, and with Atsumu on his tail, he’s cornered and has no other choice but to head toward Aran, Suna and the rest of the grip and electrical department. 

Now _everyone_ is looking at the twins’ circus, — and it’s really nothing new to the crew but always entertaining — as Atsumu chases Osamu between two of the tables. _Everyone_ being _a lot_ of people, although Atsumu didn’t pay attention as to who it was exactly, since they arrived late and started bickering right away. A tactical error, he realizes as a hand shots in his path to stop him in his tracks.

The hand is shortly followed by a whole body. A giant, looming threat in the shape of Meian Shugo. Osamu is fast enough to escape and plop in the first chair on his way. 

The chair that’s next to Suna; and Atsumu can’t help but let go of a loud and smug “AH!” before he almost collides with his boss.

“You two stop this _right now,_ we’re in a public space. Don’t make me ask the staff to set a table for kids in the corner,” Meian scolds Atsumu alone.

The production assistant immediately shrinks on himself, although he’s completely immune to the multiple snickers and chuckles echoing around.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, looking up at Meian. “Oi, ‘Samu, you apologize too!”

“What he said, sir,” Atsumu hears his twin’s half-assed response from somewhere behind Meian. 

The producer squints, but Atsumu isn’t too concerned after seeing the smile tugging the corner of his lips. Around them, the light clamor of conversations resumes as people’s attention is diverted again. Meian doesn’t back down.

“Where d’ya wanna sit, _kid?”_ he asks, keeping his voice low as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

Atsumu’s eyebrows raise a little at the question, shifting his weight on his left foot to try and look past Meian at the area where his friends are sitting together.

“I just thought I’d…”

“Sure. Kita-san’s sitting over there with the cast and I, though. I just thought maybe you’d want to spend some time with him. He’s been really impressed with your work, you know? So am I.”

Atsumu stops trying to crane his neck and stares back at his boss, stunned. Meian probably takes Atsumu’s loss for words for reluctance, because he leans into him to add:

“People can switch places during the evening, don’t worry, I don’t want to ruin your fun. I just thought it could be good for—”

“I’m definitely coming!” Atsumu finally finds his voice again. 

Meian offers him a warm, knowing smile. Atsumu hopes he doesn’t look as flustered as he feels like as his boss turns away to walk back to his chair, clearing the view, because it would be mortifying if Kita saw him like this.

_Kita-san’s over there with the cast and I._

Not only Kita, Atsumu realizes belatedly. His gaze trails to his right and stops on the back of a familiar head. Sakusa is flanked by Shimizu and Kita, facing Yachi, so Atsumu won’t have to sit directly next to him.

“Oi, you comin’?” Osamu suddenly asks.

Atsumu turns left to meet his brother’s eyes and relaxes a second when he finds out his twin’s face is absolutely crimson. No wonder why.

Suna is reclining in his seat, an arm set loosely on the back of Osamu’s chair as he looks up at Atsumu too. He doesn’t look fazed one bit, contrary to his twin. Suna is a smooth bastard.

Atsumu doesn’t even answer, he just shakes his head slowly from left to right, a manic grin growing on his lips, before moving along the makeshift alley between the tables to go sit in front of Kita, next to Meian.

Although, both his smirk and confidence deflate the moment he walks past his brother. 

Atsumu hasn’t really been alone with Sakusa since they shot that sex scene, apart from their morning drinks routine. Atsumu is ashamed to admit he did his best to avoid it. It’s not easy and he isn’t always successful but he finds himself paying a lot more attention to tasks that don’t involve the talents — something he was slightly less thorough about since the shooting had begun.

It’s been a week and Atsumu still hasn’t been able to get other his feelings. Over finding out about them, actually. It’s been a week and Atsumu successfully kept the need to freak out at bay by forcing his mind to focus on other matters. 

For once, he didn’t talk about it with Osamu. Atsumu kept everything to himself and hoped for the best.

Sakusa is really starting to warm up to him. Sakusa who used to deny him the tiniest grin is now smiling at him almost every morning. Sakusa who used to talk to him only to spew rude words now uses the small conversations he allows himself to have to banter with Atsumu. 

It’s not perfect. Atsumu was granted some mercy and Sakusa isn’t trying to befriend him, nor does he go out of his way, but just these tiny moments are already too much to process for Atsumu so he did everything to not let them happen too often.

There’s no pretending he’s confused when his stomach flutters from a smirk or a taunt. There’s no mistaking his feelings when he gets too riled up over a biting remark. They still bicker but the discussions are no longer spiteful. And although Atsumu doesn’t regret opening up to Sakusa to lend him the shoulder he needs to rely on… 

He knows he set himself up. 

And he can’t really backtrack, so he weirdly squirms his way out of situations that would mess with his brain too much.

Atsumu never lied when he told his brother he had other things to do than thinking about being in a relationship. Not that he believes Sakusa would even lay eyes on him or think about him that way after everything that happened between them — a bitter thought — but even knowing that, Atsumu can’t spare a brain cell to his own sentimental struggles when he has an entire film to carry on his back. 

His heart beats faster than necessary when he finally sits down, offering a general greeting to the group. Atsumu doesn’t try to avoid looking at Sakusa when he naturally turns to face them all because he knows better than to start looking suspicious but he sure doesn’t want to linger.

Joke’s on him. Sakusa is so gorgeous, Atsumu sucks in his breath the instant his gaze passes over the actor before tracking back immediately.

He’s not even wearing some ridiculously breathtaking outfit like Atsumu has seen Sakusa clad in around the set or during shootings so often. It’s the simplest black dress shirt, no flourish. He doesn’t wear eyeliner, no mascara to highlight his already impossibly long eyelashes and dark eyes.

He’s just goddamn beautiful and not even trying. And he’s looking back at Atsumu. 

Not just _looking,_ actually. It’s there, the hint of a smile. The corner of his lips slightly curving, the almost imperceptible wrinkles around his eyes that Atsumu learned to notice because it’s such a rare sight. 

He’s crazy. That’s it, he’s getting crazy.

“Atsumu, want some water?”

Atsumu chokes on his own spit at Kita’s question, averting his eyes at Mach speed to hide his embarrassment, the choking sound mercilessly morphing into a weird fit of coughing.

“Atsumu-san, are you okay?” Yachi asks and a delicate hand reaches between his shoulder blades to give light pats that don’t help in any way other than making him even more embarrassed. 

“Give the man some beer, instead,” Meian answers for him.

A glass is forced into Atsumu’s hand a second later — a pint actually — full enough to drown the last shreds of his dignity in. Which he immediately does, despite his promise to Osamu not to drink and drive them back to the hotel.

It’s just a few gulps of beer. For the nerves. Else Atsumu doesn’t know how he’s supposed to last through dinner with the director he admires so much praising him on one side and Sakusa looking drop dead gorgeous on the other.

He sets the glass down as soon as he’s drunk a few fresh sips of beer and Kita _viciously_ attacks him right there and then, thanking Atsumu for coordinating the whole evening.

Atsumu chuckles awkwardly.

He might need to drink the whole pint.

Dinner, however, is bearable without Atsumu having to drown his sorrow in alcohol. He doesn’t touch the glass again and gets hooked in a deep conversation with Kita and Meian. They don’t spend that much time stroking his ego and happen to have a lot more important and interesting topics to discuss with him. 

Yachi, Shimizu and Sakusa get involved sometimes but they seem happy chatting in their own world that mostly revolves around their previous film experiences. 

The entire dinner goes without a hitch. Atsumu pays attention to Sakusa enough to feel relieved when he sees him eating a bit or the entirety of each dish that is brought in front of him. 

He seems pretty relaxed all evening long and Atsumu is just enjoying a nice break after dessert, two hours after he sat down, when it dawns on him that Sakusa seems to be doing so much better than when he joined the production in November.

And it has nothing to do with their relationship improving. Sakusa just looks happier. Healthier. 

And speaking of health.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Atsumu hears Suna say over the conversation at his table.

Atsumu hears it because he’s had an ear on _their_ conversation with Osamu for the whole dinner. When it was possible, that is. Bokuto is probably the loudest person Atsumu has ever met.

There’s another reason why Atsumu hears Suna say it, though.

It’s because Suna isn’t speaking to the rest of his own table and facing forward when he does. He turned toward Osamu and spoke to him only, right in Atsumu’s direct field of vision. 

“Taggin’ along. Got a cigarette for me?”

Atsumu’s eyes go wide enough to sting. 

“I’ve got that and more if you want,” Atsumu is pretty sure he hears Suna say, as both of them get up.

And now he’s not just staring after them, he’s gaping too.

“Hell _fucking_ no,” Atsumu whispers as he watches them go.

“Atsumu-san?” Yachi asks with slight concern.

Atsumu almost forgets to force a smile before abruptly pushing his chair back.

No way, no way, _no way._

“Bathroom break,” he blurts.

“How elegant,” Sakusa retorts but Atsumu barely pays attention.

The tunnel vision is strong enough on this one for Atsumu to not even get embarrassed when he half runs down the aisle toward the exit — which happens to be in the opposite direction of the bathrooms — exposing his blatant lie.

But there’s no stopping a man on a mission.

More precisely, there’s no stopping a man who was successful with his mission but witnesses all his hard work go up in flames just because his twin can’t think with something else than his dick.

Atsumu spent two years trying to help Osamu quit that nasty habit. And when he finally succeeded, he had to pay the terrible price of handling his brother’s, also roommate, mood swings. A nightmare. Osamu would get aggravated by the tiniest thing because he couldn’t get his hands on a cigarette for months. 

The night isn’t even over. The dinner might be, but the restaurant was privatized for them so they can stay and have drinks in the lounge area until dawn if they want to. Osamu surely can wait a little longer and still get laid. 

Suna gave him the bedroom eyes all evening long. Suna told him _“I’ve got more if you want”_ like he would in the definitely awful B-movie Osamu is living and starring in without even knowing.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, ‘Samu!” Atsumu curses under his breath as he reaches the double doors Osamu and Suna just went through.

He’s stopped right in his tracks, though. The doors are opening and Bokuto almost bumps into him.

He stops before they both collide but there’s no going around him. The man is flanked by another dude that looks familiar to Atsumu but he can’t place him and, frankly, doesn’t care to.

Bokuto seems on his own mission, though, namely helping Atsumu remember who’s the handsome man wearing glasses he almost face-planted in.

“Tsum-Tsum! Look who’s joining!”

Atsumu is looking, sure, because they’re right in his path. Where he wants to go. To follow Osamu and Suna and prevent Osamu from making a big mistake.

A dumb one, at that. Who ruins their chances of finally making-out by deciding to smell like an ashtray for the first time in years?

“Hello, Miya-san,” the guy Atsumu definitely met during the shooting of their previous movie says with a small bow.

“Hi! Yeah, sure! Good t’see ya,” Atsumu answers with the most polite grin he can muster.

And it’s only when he recognizes the sharp glimpse in the newcomer’s eyes as he obviously picks up on Atsumu’s bullshit that his name pops in mind. 

_“Akaashi,_ lookin’ good, man!”

“Thank you, Miya-san. Let’s catch up later,” he says politely as he steps to the side.

A wise man. Of course, Atsumu feels guilty about being so dismissive, but he’s also relieved and gives Akaashi a sincere grateful nod before he rushes to the doors.

The cold air hits him in the face immediately but it doesn’t make him falter even one bit.

The street is passing during the day but currently, it’s empty. The nearest person who’s walking away on the sidewalk is wearing a skirt and Atsumu is positive it’s not the guy he’s after.

It immediately gets on his nerves. What if he was too late? He’s not dealing with a relapse during the shooting of a long movie. 

“‘Samu!” He almost shouts, looking both ways with an angry scowl. 

No one answers, naturally, but his eyes dart toward the sidealley that plunges in the dark on the left. It looks like a logical place to hide. 

Atsumu starts for it, hands already balling into fists at his sides.

“I swear if I catch yer ass smockin’ a cigarette I’m killin’ ya,” he rants, getting louder just before rounding the corner…

And freezing there the moment Atsumu gets a clear view of the narrow alley.

There’s no cigarette hanging from Osamu’s lips, and for good reasons. Atsumu doesn’t know how a cigarette could fit anyway since the general area is currently occupied by Suna’s lips and _tongue._

They’re _really_ making out. His little brother. And Suna, whom Osamu is currently pressing into a wall of bricks with everything he’s got. 

“Oh shit,” Atsumu blurts out, his brain suffering a painful glitch.

It’s instant. Osamu snatches himself off the kiss to glare at him.

His hair is all mussed up — courtesy of one of Suna’s hands Atsumu hadn’t seen before. 

“Yeah, _shit,_ you don’t say!” Osamu barks before Atsumu can process the whole picture. “You’re really the worst.”

“What!” Atsumu immediately gets on the defensive but doesn’t dare to step closer.

Osamu does it for him, letting go of Suna to face his twin with a murderous glare. Atsumu throws his hands up wildly.

“What was I s’posed to do?” he asks, as if Osamu is stupid for getting angry.

Which isn’t really fair, but Atsumu really thought Osamu was—

“I don’t know? Maybe stay inside instead of tryin’ to ruin my life?” 

“Wow!” Atsumu breathes out, jaw hanging open. “Ruin yer life.”

Of course, no one is there to record that and document just how much of a dramatic king Miya Osamu is himself. Atsumu clicks his tongue, ready to turn away. It’s not like his brother needs him, anyway.

“Nothing’s ruined, you know,” Suna tells Osamu in the meantime.

Atsumu can’t see him with his twin standing in the way but he _hears_ Suna’s signature sly grin.

“Wait for when I’m done with him and we’ll see about that,” Osamu answers him although he’s still drilling holes in Atsumu’s face with his eyes.

Suna’s hand reappears on Osamu’s shoulder, then his whole upper body as he leans on his brother’s side. He’s even more disheveled than Osamu.

No, clearly his twin doesn’t need Atsumu’s help at all.

“Or you could not get into a fight because you’re too pretty for that,” Suna goes on, dragging a finger along the biceps under his hand.

Atsumu jerks away instantly.

“‘Kay, I’m gonna throw up, that’s it.”

“Go throw up inside then, scrub!” Osamu immediately jumps on the occasion.

Atsumu gives him the middle finger then proceeds to shove both his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He can’t believe how ungrateful Osamu is.

He was about to walk in there in the ugliest sweater on this planet and now that he’s gotten Suna’s tongue down his throat, he acts like he no longer needs Atsumu. 

“Right! That’s what I’m gonna fuckin’ do, _scrub!_ Do proceed with—whatever.”

He doesn’t even finish the sentence, turning away with a frustrated groan. 

“Yeah, _whatever._ And thank you, you ass!”

Atsumu stops and swirls on his heel at the speed of light.

“Oi! Fuck you to—Wait, what?”

His brain freezes a second time. Osamu isn’t glaring anymore.

Atsumu squints, to make sure the darkness of the alley isn’t tricking him. But no, he really does notice the smile on his twin’s face. It doesn’t stay long because Osamu prefers to turn toward Suna but he still tells Atsumu:

“For makin’ sure I wasn’t smoking. Now _leave!”_

Although Atsumu doesn’t immediately leave, because he’s too stunned for that.

Then Osamu’s hands move to grab Suna by the hips to probably go back to their smoking break and that slaps Atsumu in the face hard enough to shake him out of his weird trance.

“Geez—Fine, I’ll leave,” he blurts out, illustrating the words as they fall from his mouth.

Atsumu finds himself walking back to the restaurant on auto-pilot. 

Osamu really did it. He went and scored with the guy he’s been pining over for ages. 

Atsumu looks absolutely stupid by the time he makes it inside because of the dumb satisfied smile on his face and the frown creasing his brows from the previous argument. He knows because he catches his reflection in the glass door.

It doesn’t bother him that much. He’s allowed to be happy for his brother, no matter how much of a pain in his ass Osamu likes to be. And besides, it’s nice to know one of the two of them’s romantic life isn’t a total wreckage. Something Atsumu tells himself just as the dining area empties itself and people move either to leave the restaurant or to go toward the lounge.

And with that, the few persons remaining seated at the tables are really singled out. 

Ironic how the man who’s partly the reason for the mess that is Atsumu’s romantic life gets under the spotlights precisely now. Atsumu heaves a long sigh and decides not to read into it.

He can avoid Sakusa tonight too. He _should_ avoid Sakusa tonight, too. Especially now that Atsumu has just been reminded of how far from his twin’s perfect romcom his own script is. 

Sadly, Atsumu has always been fantastic at taking care of people and was cursed with the inability to do the same with himself. 

He can push it, it won’t hurt that bad, is what he tells himself all the time. 

He needs to speak to Sakusa anyway to ask when he wants Atsumu to call in his chauffeur. And the poor actor was left alone at the table — although knowing him, it might have been a conscious decision — and Atsumu can’t stand knowing he’s isolated from the others.

Yeah, who cares if his heart clenches when Atsumu drops in the chair Kita was occupying a few moments ago. Not Atsumu.

Sakusa shifts in his own seat to eye him, face unreadable. He’s no longer smiling and Atsumu doesn’t even have to talk himself out of whinging over his love life. The usual instinct that urges him to take care of Sakusa takes over his brain.

“Don’t wanna party tonight?”

“I don’t wanna party ever,” Sakusa deadpans fast.

At first Atsumu laughs at the smart come back, but then he notices the way Sakusa’s hands clench on his glass of water and the gloominess in his eyes. That wasn’t a joke.

“It’s not like that time at the club, though. Ya don’t have to drink or—”

The flinch in Sakusa’s shoulders makes Atsumu shut up on the spot. 

Maybe bringing that back wasn’t smart.

“Anyway, really, it’s a chill night. People are just gonna take a nice relaxin’ break from the shooting. ‘t’s been quite intense.”

“A break, mh?” Sakusa hums with a flat stare as he steals a glance toward Atsumu.

Something’s terribly off, but Atsumu can’t pinpoint what.

“I mean—”

“How did that work for your brother and Suna? You didn’t seem like you’d let them catch a break,” Sakusa finally spills.

Atsumu blinks a couple of times, leaning back to take a good look at the actor who’s facing away from him resolutely.

“You noticed that?” he asks, horrified by the sheer idea Sakusa saw him be such an idiot.

“Yeah, I noticed that,” Sakusa answers.

He drops back his glass slowly, grabbing the handle of his fork to fidget with instead. Atsumu stares at the motion.

“Shit,” Atsumu curses.

“Does that bother you that much? Don’t worry, no one else did, if that’s what irks you so much. In fact, if you don’t want people to be grossed out, you should probably not fret over—”

“Hold on.”

Atsumu stops Sakusa right there, holding a finger between them before folding his hands in front of his face, pressing over his mouth as Sakusa’s words turn on a sick loop in his mind.

There’s no way Sakusa knows Atsumu was trying to prevent Osamu from getting his hands on a cigarette. And there’s no way he’s that upset because Atsumu lied about going to the bathrooms.

There’s only one reason someone would think Atsumu is irked, — worse, _grossed out_ — by the fact his brother ran after another man.

“Why does this keep happening,” he breathes out in disbelief.

Sakusa frowns; Atsumu buries his face in his hands entirely.

“You’ve got it so wrong I can’t even—I think someone’s prankin’ me. Even porn movies have better scripts than that.”

“What?” Sakusa gasps.

“The misunderstandings! So. many,” Atsumu groans, dragging his hands slowly over his face. “You don’t understand. Fuck.”

And maybe Atsumu should _explain,_ instead of acting like his life is ending, but he can’t help it. He’s just a little tired of being a walking joke.

A _lot_ tired after the way he tries his best to accomodate people around him constantly. The way he shelters Sakusa all the time. The way he works so hard to be a good person just to hear such terrible undertones.

And maybe Atsumu has some explaining to do for Sakusa to get to understand him better, but he’s so _tired_ and that was just plain wrong.

Thank god, his almost untouched beer is still sitting right there in the middle of the table. It’s not fresh anymore but Atsumu downs half of it as if it was the solution to all his problems all the same.

It’s only when the glass taps back on the tablecloth that he decides tonight is the last night Sakusa gets on his high horse for no reason.

 _“Look,_ sorry to disappoint but I’ve been tryin’ to get them to hook up for ages,” he starts, dragging his forearm over his mouth to wipe the beer clinging to his upper lips like the desperate man who doesn’t give a damn any longer he is. “I only ran after them ‘cause I thought Osamu was gonna smoke for real. That shit isn’t good for ‘im.” 

Sakusa doesn’t say a word, only silently and intensely stares while he takes in Atsumu’s explanation. 

Atsumu doesn’t sound like he’s joking. On the contrary.

“I thought he was setting himself up, wouldn’t be new. So I went and I was wrong, but I couldn’t stay put. Turns out they were eatin’ each other’s faces already when I arrived, so—” he trails off and crosses his arms defensively.

A handful of seconds pass while Sakusa seems to appraise Atsumu.

The production assistant doesn’t particularly like that, but he supposes it can’t be helped. 

He won’t, however, be judged for something he didn’t do and something that’s so unjust.

Fortunately, Sakusa isn’t stupid. He’s many terrible things Atsumu would gladly put on a list to remind himself not to be so smitten with him, but stupid isn’t one of them.

“I see. Good for them, then,” Sakusa ends up saying slowly.

It’s not that he looks sheepish — quite frankly, Atsumu can’t ever imagine Sakusa looking sheepish — but Sakusa doesn’t look proud of the assumptions he made either and that’s a start.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ hope so. Is there still something wrong?” 

Atsumu’s temper shows up right when he tries to seek peace, and he can’t blame it on the beer yet. 

Maybe he did reach his limit. Between that and his brother being an ass… After getting stuck under a bed while he had to listen to Sakusa pretending to have sex… After spending months trying to be a good guy when he can be such an asshole.

Atsumu deserves not to be misjudged.

“No,” Sakusa answers quietly, dragging Atsumu back from his infernal spiral. “I was under the impression there was something wrong for you but I misjudged the situation. I misjudged you.”

Atsumu goes entirely still for a second before a terrible shudder runs down his spine. 

That’s another terrible thing about Sakusa. He might be short-tempered and as much of a jerk as Atsumu can be, but he’s never unfair to him. He’s always willing to listen.

Atsumu is the one who did questionable things when they met, and even then Sakusa gave him chances every time Atsumu tried to make amends. He’s too quick to jump on the slightest mistake, but Sakusa knows to admit when he’s wrong. 

Something Atsumu wouldn’t have given him when he met him and took him for an almighty idiot.

The temperature of the room seems to pick up insufferably and Atsumu reaches for his other glass, pouring himself some water this time.

He’s still halfway plunged in his drinks when he finds the strength to mumble: 

“Damn right, you did. Nothing’s wrong. Suna is a good guy, my brother deserves to be with a good guy.”

And now that this particular point is settled… Atsumu lets go of the glass and looks straight at Sakusa. 

He might as well gather the courage to say it. He shouldn’t blush from such a request, Atsumu earned the right to be treated correctly.

“Actually, no offense, or do take offense if ya wanna but... it’d be real _nice_ if you could stop jumping to conclusions and assuming things about me all the time. Especially unfair and fucked up things like me being _homophobic.”_

The time for him to finish his last sentence, Atsumu feels a little more confident. Especially since Sakusa doesn’t seem highly offended by the accusation. Actually, his face is once more unreadable and Atsumu feels like it’s the right moment to burst the bubble he’s been aching to poke for weeks.

“I don’t think I need to tell you how sensible that subject is either.”

It’s there now.

 _I read the papers. I saw the articles. I might even know about this whole subject a lot more than you,_ Atsumu wants to say. Just like he’s been wanting to tell Sakusa he could go to him if he needed some help with it.

Atsumu still is clueless about Sakusa’s situation past what the rumors are, but he’s well aware of the damages they can leave in their wake. And Sakusa seems ticked off enough by the conversation for Atsumu to know his assumptions aren’t wrong.

The aftermath is still nerve-wracking. Sakusa doesn’t speak for what seems like ages and Atsumu has the time to dread a thousand terrible outcomes for this evening.

Especially when the actor progressively seems to be unable to hide behind the composed mask he’s so used to wearing around others and Atsumu realizes Sakusa is actually really upset.

“No, you don’t need to,” he eventually says, his voice icy cold.

Yet Atsumu can see his fingers shaking on the cutlery he’s clutching. He can see the furious red blotches that streak Sakusa’s neck progressively.

He wants to say something but Sakusa gets there himself.

“I’m sorry. That's… it _is_ a sensible topic to me… I do tend to… I fucked up."

Sakusa is struggling to even finish the sentence and that last heartfelt bit makes Atsumu ache for him. 

His hand flies toward Sakusa's before he can even think. It's almost too late when Atsumu realizes and he refrains last second from actually touching him. 

Instead his fingertips brush Sakusa's wrist over the tablecloth. 

Sakusa drops the fork he's been toying with in a dull rattle, his hand balling into a fist. His dark eyes are fixed on Atsumu's fingers so Atsumu draws them back instantly. He lets his hand rest a few inches apart, nervously scratching the cloth with his nails. He clears his throat. 

"Hey, you're okay. I understand. More than you think. I’m not gonna give you hell for it," he says with a gentle voice. 

It's so gentle that it's foreign to his own ears but Atsumu is being absolutely honest. He was ready to give hell to Sakusa a hundred times and for many reasons what seems like an eternity ago but not anymore.

Atsumu surprises himself by giving Sakusa a light smile although the atmosphere is still so thick. 

Sakusa is adamantly facing the table but his eyes flick toward him for a second before he hunches forward again.

That's something that always amazed Atsumu. How this giant man so often tries to make himself way tinier than he is. Sadly, it's never a sign of feeling good in your own skin… 

"I know, Miya. You never do… You're—Thank you for that." 

Atsumu snatches his hand back almost brutally at that. Not because he messed up and touched him, but because the words kick a very urgent need to reach out and it makes his stomach churn. Atsumu can’t.

But Sakusa is so lonely. And Atsumu can't even imagine how that must feel. 

"Don't thank me for bein' decent." 

Sakusa gives him a non-committal grunt for a response. The only response to give when someone is not used to people being decent with them, or not genuinely at least. 

"That's another thing you don't talk about often, do ya?" Atsumu asks, averting his gaze to give Sakusa some space. 

It works. 

"No. Never had a pleasant conversation about it in my whole life."

Atsumu feels his throat tighten. It seems like they could have one. 

Sakusa talked about unpleasant things with him in the past. 

There's only a minor detail, though, that might get in their way. Atsumu boldly decides to try and get rid of it. 

"But we’re not exactly strangers anymore, are we?" he says, as casually as possible. 

It's still a lot more intense than he wished it was. But Sakusa is too confused to shy away. 

"What do you mean?" 

_Don't tip-toe around,_ Sakusa asked more than once.

"I mean that you started talking to me about unpleasant stuff because we didn’t know each other so it was easy, but now—well."

A silence, Atsumu's pulse beats loud enough in his ears to dismiss the restaurant's general clamor. 

"It’s still easy, Miya." 

Atsumu stops playing with the thread he pulled off the tablecloth over the last minutes.

His face grows terribly hot.

He knows it doesn't mean anything, or more like it means nothing more than Sakusa being comfortable around him, but it's a lot to process already. 

Atsumu told himself he wouldn't venture into dangerous territories, that no hopes would get too high because there was nothing to expect or hope for to begin with.

They work together. Sakusa is not a friend. 

But he is no longer a stranger. 

Atsumu suddenly taps the surface of the table. Lightly but it's enough to startle Sakusa. 

Atsumu said he shouldn't get his hopes too high and he should avoid Sakusa but Atsumu also said he wouldn't drink alcohol tonight and here they are.

He'll regret it later. 

"Say, I know you said that 'cause you were upset but… you don’t wanna join the party anyway, do ya?" 

He might regret it, but the atmosphere shifts toward something lighter and Atsumu can’t bother to dwell on it.

Sakusa suddenly slumps over the table like a sulky kid, pushing away the abandoned dessert plate to pillow his face on his hands. Atsumu thinks he must be dreaming. The giant billboard advertising perfume with a gorgeous model on it suddenly flashes in mind.

It seems like a million years away.

“Perceptive as ever,” Sakusa simply comments with another _huff,_ this one slightly more playful. “You know me a little too well.”

Atsumu feels the muscles of his face pull as a grin blooms there.

“Told ya, no longer strangers.”

Sakusa scoffs, turning his face so he can peek at Atsumu from under his lashes. Even when he looks like an overgrown child, he’s gorgeous. 

Atsumu has a reason to tear his eyes away from the sight when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He frowns before fishing for it, craning his neck to look in the direction of the lounge area. It might be Meian, someone might be getting too drunk or—

**From ‘Samu to me:**

> _What were you THINKING he’s lodging with the entire light department??? WHY DID YOU DO THAT!??_

“Uh, shit! ‘Samu…” Atsumu curses low.

Sakusa still perks up a little, visibly intrigued.

**From me to ‘Samu:**

> _I did my fucking job? I wasn’t gonna rent a flat for your majesty. The hell ‘Samu, go to our suite and let me eat for free in your restaurant for the next six months_

**From ‘Samu to me:**

> _YOU EAT FOR THREE that’s the most expensive dicking I’ve ever heard of you RAT_

**From me to ‘Samu:**

> _And that’s my last offer, take it or leave_

**From ‘Samu to me:**

> _Oh I’m gonna take it just fine, don’t show your stupid face before dawn_

Atsumu is about to straight up block his brother’s number (like he does so often) from the disgusting reply but then he receives another one. A simple _thank you._

He lets go of a long suffering sigh and pockets his phone again before throwing his head back.

Then he looks down after a few seconds and Sakusa’s eyebrows are so high on his forehead that one is disappearing behind his bangs entirely. Atsumu clears his throat, a little embarrassed to realize he just saw him type aggressively a series of texts without context.

“So… What d’ya say, Omi-kun?” Atsumu asks for diversion.

Sakusa straightens up.

Before dawn. Damn, he doesn’t want to party all night. And he sure can’t hang out with Sakusa until dawn, but...

“What do I say to what?”

“Well,” Atsumu’s plan forms in his head as Sakusa sends him a puzzled look. “There’s that café down the street that’s open 24/7. I pick some of your nasty drinks there at times. Wanna go there? I kinda…” 

Atsumu feels his face growing hot again as he vomits the words and Sakusa doesn’t even budge or react. 

“I think I’m gonna have to leave my suite for a few hours at least. ‘Samu is… Whatever. I don’t really wanna get trashed with the others too and you're not gonna go back yet to the hotel anyway, you need to relax. It's your night out. It’s out of the question, you should have a good tim—”

Atsumu is so lost in his rambling that he doesn’t really see the way Sakusa’s lips twitch and when he starts chuckling, then clearly laughs at him, Atsumu is left dumbfounded. 

Sakusa can laugh.

Not loudly like Bokuto or ugly like Terushima. Just… he can laugh.

And Atsumu can’t breathe. 

“Yeah. Okay, why not,” Sakusa says shortly after — allowing Atsumu to not turn blue from the lack of oxygen. “But only for your brother's sake.”

And _that_ actually prompts Atsumu to laugh in turn. Just enough to shake his shoulders, but it feels great.

It feels _easy._

Atsumu feels hopeful and tries to bury it as deep as can be. There’s _hope_ for being friends, that’s it.

Friends.

“‘right, sir,” he says, clasping his hands before suddenly pushing his chair back. 

Atsumu then grabs Sakusa’s coat on the back of his chair and does a double take when he finds a parka jacket instead of the fancy coat he imagined he’d see.

And sure, it’s an expensive brand and a fancy jacket. But it’s a parka. 

“Sorry, left my ermine mantle at home,” Sakusa says as he gets to his feet too.

Atsumu immediately stops staring.

“No, I—” he stammers, rushing to hand him the coat. “I like your jacket.”

Which is absolutely true, but Sakusa still scoffs as he slides his arms in. 

Atsumu can’t really tell him he assumed and expected the actor to be the kind of guy dressed to the nines all the time. Sakusa daily walks in and out of the set wearing designer outfits or very, very casual clothing Atsumu assumed were only meant to relax after a day stuck in a suit or a costume.

Maybe Sakusa doesn’t overdress at all. He didn’t tonight. The dress shirt is really common and he’s wearing it with some jeans. 

Fitted, contrary to the appalling rags Osamu owns, but still plain jeans. And plain ankle boots.

“Are you going to stand there all night, Miya? Or are you taking me to that café?” Sakusa suddenly brings Atsumu back to Earth.

He shakes his head and lunges for his own trench coat.

“Sorry Omi-Omi. Damn, I think that coffee’s gonna be very warranted,” Atsumu answers.

“You’re not going to drop these stupid nicknames anytime soon, are you?”

Atsumu pretends to think about it for a second. Sakusa doesn’t sound mad when he says that. Not at all, actually.

“Nope.”

Sakusa only snorts before turning away then moves toward the lounge area.

“I’m going to say goodbye, then,” he tells Atsumu, taking him aback.

“Sure, I’ll say I’m escorting you back on my way,” Atsumu goes after him in a hurry.

Put like that, it’s exactly what it looks like and Atsumu can’t help but feel like a teenager. They’re going to lie to the rest of the crew to escape and spend some time together. His heart flutters embarrassingly.

Only because Sakusa enjoys quiet company more than a crowd. Only because Osamu locked him out of his own suite until dawn.

Atsumu keeps repeating that to himself like a mantra as they go around the remaining crew members that plan to extend their stay and have a drink or more together. No one questions them. Sakusa doesn’t strike people as _the_ wildest partygoer and the dark circles under Atsumu’s eyes and the indecent hours he pulls off all week long are a solid excuse for himself.

Adriah and Inunaki _do_ try to hold him back for one glass but he dismisses them without much remorse. 

Atsumu wonders if he should have some, but when Sakusa passes by him to walk to the exit, the answer is pretty clear.

Atsumu doesn’t even know how he’s supposed to regret going with him.

Maybe he will, the little voice in his head reminds him, if he starts really falling for him. But there’s no reason for that; Atsumu isn’t drunk and Atsumu is reasonable. 

He's not given the chance to fry his brain over it any longer. 

The moment they reach the doors, they open for them, but that's as far as they go. 

Osamu and Suna are bent toward each other and giggling over what probably is a private joke. Osamu holds the door for Suna who gives him a fond smile in return, then they both stop in their tracks as their little bubble burst with Atsumu's — tactless, he'll admit — very loud:

"Ah! About time!" 

He probably imagines Sakusa's quiet snort because there's no way Sakusa would snort or join him to roast his brother even in Atsumu's wildest fantasies. 

"About time you shut up, yeah. Been waiting for that for twenty-seven years,” Osamu answers as he takes a step forward.

An intimidation tactic that doesn’t work on Atsumu one second. Sadly, he doesn’t have time to find a come back to bury Osamu to the ground.

“Enjoy your family reunion. I’ll grab your coat,” Suna says as he shamelessly leans into him, a hand squeezing Osamu’s asscheek before he sneaks between the twins.

Osamu jolts, the tip of his ears reddening instantly. Sakusa is polite enough to look away. But Atsumu has no qualms giving his brother absolute shit for it once he’s done biting back a mocking wheeze.

“Woah. PDAs. In front of my fuckin’ salad,” he hammers the moment Suna is gone.

“You didn’t eat any salad, dickhead,” Osamu counters, still blushing furiously.

“The A in PDA stands for _affection,_ Miya,” Sakusa suddenly interjects with a superb poker face. “ _That_ looked less like some affectionate display and more like some vulgar courtship ritual.”

To say Atsumu’s jaw drops right this instant is an understatement. 

Vulgar courtship ritual? _Really?_

A part of him wants to snicker at Sakusa’s comment but he can’t. Precisely _because_ that comment comes from Sakusa of all people. 

“Oh, nice. So you can be as much of a jerk as he is. Great,” Osamu says and it’s no news he never treats famous talents with more reverence than he would any other human being, but he still adds: “No offense, of course.”

“None taken,” Sakusa answers immediately.

And there’s a light smile playing on his lips.

Atsumu feels like he just fell into a vortex and was blurted out in another dimension. 

“Omi,” he breathes out, eyes wide.

_“Omi?”_

Osamu is the one who repeats the nickname. 

Loudly. Obnoxiously. 

At least, Atsumu has a solid reason not to keep gaping at Sakusa’s taunt. He’s all of a sudden way more interested by the many ways he could throttle his darling brother.

Darling brother who is obviously biting his cheek hard not to laugh at him like the absolute bastard he is.

“We’re going now, ‘Samu,” Atsumu says as he steps ahead and pushes the doors of the restaurant open for Sakusa. “Don’t call me crying once you’ve lost your v-card. I won’t answer.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not—”

“Good night, Miya-san, and congratulations on the v-card loss,” Sakusa says with a little bow before following Atsumu. “Thanks.”

“You two are _rotten._ I’m not a fuckin’ virgin,” Osamu hisses.

And Atsumu, already deliriously delighted by Sakusa’s intervention, has the pleasure to hear Suna — who just came back — say: “There’s no shame in being a virgin, though” and see his brother blow a fuse from sheer embarrassment.

The doors close on them, and Atsumu smugly turns toward Sakusa, pointing a thumb back toward the restaurant

“Thank you! That ungrateful bastard deserved th—”

But the words get easily lost on his tongue.

Atsumu shuts his mouth and feels his heart swell.

On the pavement, right beside him, Sakusa is laughing again. 

Not loudly, not weirdly, not ugly… 

Sakusa is just laughing, genuinely, and suddenly Atsumu finds out it doesn't matter if he's been locked out of his suite until dawn. 

He doesn't want morning to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is a SakuAtsu centric fic and yes, the background pairing sealed the deal first. Yes, I exist and I STRUGGLE ahah
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, though ♥
> 
> On another note, I was asked to narrate the [story](https://twitter.com/deaddrabble/status/1363544036796231681) of when I was stuck in a smiliar position than Atsumu and the bed last chapter so I did. If you click on the link, you will read a very embarrassing IRL story of mine and the actors who fucked on top of my head.
> 
> The clownery never ends!  
> See you next chapter ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Just little notes:  
> I work in the cinema industry but in French, English and American productions and I don't know much if anything about how things go in Japan so there probably will be a few inacuracies.  
> I update bi-monthly.  
> I love to chat and scream with you ♥
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Deaddrabble)  
> Find me on [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/DeaddrabbleRobin)


End file.
